To Each, Their Own
by LunarCry
Summary: SatAM fic, spontaneously started with no clue as to its direction and ending up rather longer than anticipated. Intermixed with a few key bits of Archie comic lore. Mild violence, very little in the way of pairings.
1. One

It began as a distant flash of violent colour against the drab surroundings, but the pulsing, singing whine bounced off every towering wall, little more than a hissing whisper by the time it reached his strained ears.

The scream of a SWATbot's belly-mounted laser blaster. Sonic would have known the sound anywhere, in any setting, but most vividly against the background of endless mechanical noise that dominated Robotropolis. His senses were always ready to detect it, recognise it, match it against the array of sensations in the back of his mind that were everything familiar to him – a set of sounds and smells and feelings that should have been reserved for experiences like that first annual whiff of a warm, fresh summer breeze, untainted by smoke and pollution. Or the sound of one awesome uncle shouting that lunch is ready, and the debilitating aroma of hot, seasoned chilli dogs ready to smack you in the nose upon arrival.

Those sensations were still there, of course. But they lay dormant in his head, dreamlike and surreal, like they had happened to someone else. Almost like Sonic had lived, and died, and risen again as someone new, whose recollections of that past life were just glimpses through a narrow viewhole into someone else's experiences. And they would probably stay that way until the past once again became the familiar, and the defiant plunges into danger, into smog-ridden, choking, _suffocating_ Robotropolis were relegated to unpleasant memory.

Sonic shoved his wistful musings aside, his ears cocked for further repetition of the sound and his head jerked painfully in the direction he thought it might have come from. Like a cold statue, he remained frozen in the posture he'd snapped to upon hearing it.

It had definitely been a laser; the noise had catapulted around the long, vast network of alleyways, its source maybe a short distance away and not easy to pinpoint with any accuracy. He couldn't help but marvel at the fact that the blast hadn't, just for a change, been aimed at _him_. Sonic grinned, but the amusement didn't last long. SWATbots shooting at _him_ was still preferable to SWATbots shooting at his buddies, or worse – other Mobians who probably wouldn't be quick enough or practised enough to dodge the shots.

Still, no immediate danger for him and his gang, and tearing away now to hunt the conflict down would leave them without a lookout. Sonic forced himself to relax, blowing out the breath he'd been holding and clasping a hand to his chest. His heartbeat beneath it was quick and darting, a swift but intense rhythm drummed by his old friend, Adrenaline, and one he intimately knew the dance to.

He stood in the shadows of a deep alleyway, surrounded on most sides by looming, claustrophobic walls that turned the sky into a distant trickle of dismal, churning mud far above his head. This time of the year, there should have been a wintry chill in the air, but as ever it was warm and humid, rendered that way by the pollution that riddled the city's core. Sometimes it was so bad, spending more than a few minutes in the bad air could plain knock a person out, or _worse_, though thankfully that wasn't the case today - the worst of the smog hovered far overhead, blocking out the midday sunlight. From a high viewpoint away from the city, the thick clouds sometimes looked like a bloated swarm of malicious insects. Not that the comparison to pestilence was inappropriate for someone as parasitic as Ol' 'Buttnik.

As though they were buzzing over a carcass, Sonic thought wearily. Sometimes it really felt like they might be. Anyone who had seen as much of their ruined home as he had was unlikely to find it easy to envisage it ever being alive again. Sonic scowled at his own morbid thoughts, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment and blinking them furiously the next, hoping that might straighten out his line of thought, connect it back to his renowned supply of optimism, but this _place_ . . . It was like a siphon, the atmosphere draining positive thought and replacing it with the mental equivalent of a bad taste in your mouth.

He rolled his aching shoulders, his back stiff from its habitual posture of forced alertness. His nerves were wired with the ever-familiar tension of just _being_ in a city whose very foundations seemed to want him and his kind equally consumed by the metallic infestation that was killing it more and more everyday. If they ever turned Robotropolis back into Mobitropolis, he figured he'd probably be a cripple from all the crouching and skulking. Or maybe a paranoid old war veteran, like a couple of the older survivors of the Great War he remembered spinning conspiratorial tales, back when he'd been a kid. . .

"Sugar-hog!"

He snatched his gaze in the opposite direction, where the indistinct silhouettes of his companions were crouched around a modest selection of plump sacks. The thought of hijacking more of Ol' 'Buttnik's supplies instilled some much needed cheer in his thoughts.Sonic cast one last look along the alley, seeking out in particular an opening in the tall walls that led out onto a main, dilapidated street, from which patrols and SWATbots were most likely to appear. But the gap in the narrow horizon was devoid of movement – the coast was clear. He straightened, sprinting towards the freedom fighters with a broad grin that caught the minimal light and was apparently infectious because they greeted him with their own less confident, but no less enthused mini-versions.

"You guys ready to juice?"

In front of him, Bunnie hefted a sack bigger than a girl had any right to carry, one long ear flopping unconcernedly over an eye that winked her confirmation. Sonic glanced over the others – missions to lift much-needed parts from Robotnik's factories were as straightforward as a life-risking dip into Robotropolis could ever get, and for that reason Bunnie was the only other experienced freedom fighter in the group – four pairs of anxious but determined eyes, belonging to a number of newbie team members, stared back at him, bobbing in the darkness in a collective nod.

Young, he thought with a moment of worrying doubt. But it was gone in the second it took him to remember, with unfailing surprise, his own age, and to recall how much younger he'd been when forays into Robotropolis had become the norm. Sonic flashed them a thumbs-up, prepared to pound them with praise and encouragement the second they got back home. But, that laser . . .

There was a semi-apology in his expression even before he turned to Bunnie, his grin turning sheepish. "You got enough people to carry the loot, Bunnie?"

Bunnie blinked, her eyes narrowing with shrewd, but complacent, suspicion on the hedgehog. "We're gonna be one down, Ah'm guessing?"

"You got it in one."

"Sonic . . ." No nickname meant Bunnie at her most serious, and the hedgehog awarded her the courtesy of an equally solemn regard. "Sally'll tear strips outta mah hide if you're not with us when we get back."

"I hear ya." Sonic gave her biological arm a reassuring mock-punch, his knuckles very faintly glancing against her shoulder. In amused return, she raised the bulk of her mechanical one, clenched fist and all, and Sonic lifted his hands in playful defence. "I just have to check something out. Make sure you get everyone home safe – but I betcha I _still_ get back before you do."

Bunnie unfurled her fist and planted the hand on her hip, arching an eyebrow at her younger delegates with a classic lopsided Southern grin. "Ah do believe we've just been issued a challenge, guys and gals. Let's get our behinds movin' already. Come back in one piece, Sugar-hog, or you'll have Sally to deal with. And if that don't scare you, nothin' will."

Sonic saluted, waiting just long enough to make sure his friends made it out of the alley. Bunnie led the group covertly down a junction, her movements enviously careful and silent for someone cursed with metal limbs, and she turned to give him a discreet wave before she and her followers disappeared from view.

Still, monotone lifelessness surrounded him now, but that worried him. Robotnik was no idiot – his SWATbots were programmed well enough not to shoot at nothing, And now that he had no further obligation to his comrades, it was time to make sure nothing bad was happening to someone else.

He aimed himself in the direction he'd originally marked out as the place of conflict and shot forward, his feet barely seeming to touch the filth-ridden floor. Running through Robotropolis was sometimes like running through a long, endless corridor – out in the forest when he ran, streamers of colour and movement blew past on either side of him, his speed turning an already complex, fascinating world into something infinitely new and exciting. But the city was grey. It was dark, it was dull, it was lifeless, and it was grey. And running only made everything greyer. Trust 'Buttnik to take the fun out of _every_thing the city had once been.

Sonic backpeddled suddenly, coming to a sharp halt with his nose just inches from a junction in the complicated network of back alleys. The wind rushing over his ears had distorted it, but he knew he'd heard something. And sure enough, even as he stood still, a series of quiet, discreet _clinks_ sounded from his right, coming from the path of the junction.

Silently pressing against the wall, Sonic edged with painstaking precision into the vulnerable crossing, his cheek pushed hard to the grimy surface of his support. To his surprise, the narrow alley only continued a few feet to the right, where it opened up into a larger lot. Sonic couldn't see much of it, a wall interrupting his field of vision, but in a split second he was against it, listening intently for movement.

Whatever it was didn't _sound_ like a scuffle. That could mean anything. His mind, in particular, was focused on the possibility of some helpless Mobian in the grip of a SWATbot, probably hurt, _possibly_ dead, but not likely to be. Killing potential workers was inefficient when a quick robotocisation could turn them into the most loyal slaves Robotnik would ever need.

Sonic felt his jaw clench with renewed anger, and slipped around the final corner.

What he saw didn't immediately make sense to him. The lot looked like it might have been the back of a large store in the past – its walls were lined with old, industrial-sized rubbish bins, most of them ironically empty while trash piled up around them, probably swept there by breezes through the city and wedged against the obstructions.

In the middle of the area was a downed SWATbot, legs still twitching in the air and a faint fizzling just barely audible from its metallic corpse. Sonic couldn't tell exactly what had taken it down, but he felt the clue was probably in the scrawny, cloak-shrouded shape sitting hunched on its upturned belly and tugging at its mounted laser.

Whatever it was had its back to him. But the cloak, while blending effortlessly with the greys and browns of the city, didn't quite cover the thin, dark-furred arms that worked away at the laser equipment. The creature was no robot, and that was all that mattered to Sonic. He stepped further into the lot.

"Hey!"

The creature froze, and then its head jerked towards him. For a long, chilling moment, Sonic found himself gripped by a pair of intense feline eyes, reflecting unnatural colours in the minimal light. Very, very slowly, the cat dismounted the SWATbot, toes spread, her movements deliberate and careful until she was straightened to her full height.

Sonic opened his mouth, but couldn't find his voice. There was something menacing and disconcerting in her stance and relentless regard. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the spot she'd been sitting over on the SWATbot's underside.

It was a smoking hole.

It was times like this that he wished he didn't hate Robotnik, and all associated metal and mechanical things by default. Maybe if he didn't, he wouldn't be quite so quick to put his faith in all the furry residents of the planet.

He had certainly put his trust in the wrong animal this time, because from beneath her cloak, the cat slowly withdrew a heavy object that looked suspiciously like a SWATbot's belly-mounted laser.

And then with all the calm proficiency of a seasoned expert, she pointed it in his direction, and shot him.


	2. Two

His nose was pressed to the concrete when he groggily came to. The memories weren't quick to flood back, and required a bit of mental coaxing, but eventually they leaked out of wherever they'd been hiding and made themselves known.

The SWATbot. The cat. The gun. The shot.

Yeah, the shot. Sonic suspected the shot was probably the reason why his right side was hot and throbbing, why his body ached with pervasive pain that seemed to stem in waves from the wound. It didn't feel wet, but then laser wounds didn't bleed, did they?

Still, he wasn't dead, which was good news. But neither did he feel particularly like moving. Instead he kept his eyes closed, lying perfectly still and attempting to discern his situation through his other senses.

There wasn't a distinctive sound that he could detect. The ever-evident background noise of machinery at work made it pretty obvious he was still in Robotropolis, but beyond that, he was clueless.

His backpack was gone. The soft leather straps and warm, somewhat comforting familiar presence against his back had been removed – which meant, he realised with a barely-suppressed flash of panic, that the power ring hidden inside was also in the hands of whoever had taken it. And what were the chances his attacker hadn't looked through the contents?

The attacker . . . Sonic recalled with startling clarity those intense opalescent eyes, complete with slitted pupils. Eyes that had _recognised_ him as not being a threat, but belonging to a creature that had coldly and deliberately shot him anyway. What was with _that_? Didn't Robotnik already fill Mobius' malicious lunatic quota?

It made so little sense he didn't want to spend any longer analysing it. Analysing was for smarter Freedom Fighters like Sally and Rotor – but Sonic was most distinctly feeling the itch of impending action. And was the feline even still around? Maybe she'd taken the power ring and fled, left him rolling on the floor with a laser burn in his side. A bitter pang of distaste lurked at the back of his throat – after all his close scrapes and daring city raids, the first time he'd been hit by an enemy weapon like that and the perpetrator had been a Mobian, not a SWATbot. The thought was thoroughly gutting.

The more awake he felt, the more intense the pain seemed to become. Sonic realised he was clenching his jaw, and, his morbid curiosity making him unable to resist, he tilted his head, forehead scraping the concrete. It was dark, and the floor was thick with filth, but he caught sight of his burned side with strange, analytical detachment. It had been a deliberately glancing blow, debilitating but not fatal; the skin looked charred, and there was some blood, but not nearly enough to represent how much it hurt - it felt kind of like a very bad burn, and at the same time like he'd been slashed with a blade. Rolling in dirt had probably not been the best course of action for it.

The wonders of laser technology. Yet another gift bestowed by Robotnik upon a world that really didn't like his format of presents.

Sonic turned his head further, and found himself staring cross-eyed into the rounded barrel of the same gun that had taken him out in the first place. A sly, feline grin danced just beyond it, quite deliberately flashing every single pointed fang.

"Thought I was gone, did you?"

The voice was a deep purr, laced with bitter amusement. His first guess was right – the cat was female. Curling up a tired, delirious grin, Sonic blinked at her.

"Well, I _was_ kinda hoping . . ."

She laughed. Or cackled. Or some strange cross between the two – all Sonic knew was that it sounded feminine and harsh and infectious and malicious all at the same time.

"No such luck I'm afraid, Sonic Hedgehog. I must say I wasn't quite expecting to ever meet you face to face, but I don't regret the encounter. _Yet_. So don't make me. Or next time I'll aim a little closer to something irreplaceable."

The gun swept mercifully out of his field of vision, dismissing him as not posing any particular threat, and Sonic expelled a relieved breath, but the moment was brief. His teeth clenched tightly against every torturous, gritty pulse of pain from his wounded side, he rolled onto his back, gazing dizzily up at his captor.

Her cloak was no longer covering her completely. She had whipped it over her shoulders, the tattered material framing a gaunt, punished body, dark-furred except for occasional patches of brown that Sonic suspected had been white like the longer hair on her head before the considerable filth of the ravaged city had managed to get to them. Her obvious malnourishment made her look older than she surely was – it was the age of experience rather than years. Sonic saw it every time he looked in the mirror, or at his fellow Freedom Fighters whose childhoods had been forced aside.

But while she was thin, and undernourished, she looked far from fragile – she had all the dangerous energy of a coiled spring, and it showed in her wary stance, the threatening way she held herself, the intensity of that opalescent gaze. Every movement she made was deliberate and carefully chosen to achieve maximum effect – including the slow, rhythmic patting of the long barrel of the gun against her muscled thigh.

The Freedom Fighters had principles against weapons like these. Even Rotor handled scavenged lasers and guns with extreme caution, and never replicated the technology for offensive use. It was a distinction, a conscious separation between the generally pacifistic Mobians and Robotnik, with his disregard for life. Gunfights got more people into trouble than it ever got them out of it.

She seemed to sense Sonic's taut-lipped disapproval, because her fang-filled grin widened, and she withdrew a second gun from behind her, snapping the heavy barrel free from the thick, over-the-shoulder strap that was her only other accessory beyond the cloak. Obviously the one she'd claimed from the SWATbot she'd downed. There were still wires and cables dangling from the end she'd torn free, and Sonic didn't think it would work in that condition, but he didn't feel tempted to test the theory just yet. Not with someone who had already proven she wasn't afraid of shooting him where he stood.

Wait a minute – the cat had called him by name, made references to his character that suggested she knew more about him than a basic recognition of a fellow Mobian. Anger suddenly smouldered in Sonic like cooling embers prodded with a poker.

"Okay," he said through clenched teeth, far too irritated anymore to propagate his famous sense of humour. "What's the deal? Who are you? What did I do to deserve to get shot? What are you doing with me? Where's my -"

The cat slung the laser barrel back onto her shoulder strap, her smile flickering away to an annoyed scowl. "Your mouth's reputation precedes you. I had a feeling you might make too much noise for your own good." Squatting down on her haunches, the feline dragged Sonic's old backpack by its straps into her reach, delicately unfastening the buckle. "My name is Safira. That's all you need to know. Everything else is _about_ you, not your given right to know."

Some snide, mocking note in Safira's deep, guttural purr of a voice made dark flashes of anger burst in Sonic's head.

"Wait, wait just a minute here. I'm shot, and I'm not allowed to know why?"

Safira flipped open the backpack, failing to answer him as the exuded golden glow of the power ring glittered in her gaze. With appreciative paws, she pulled the radiant circle from its confines for closer examination.

"Perfect," she whispered. "This is going to work."

Ah. Suddenly everything snapped into place, and Sonic recognised the optimistic gleam in her eyes.

"You know," he said with contrived patience, "bartering with Ol' 'Buttnik never works out quite the way you want it to."

Those fierce eyes fastened onto him with all the aggression of a snapping-turtle's bite, but she apparently thought better of asking him how he knew the gist of her plans.

"Then this time will be an education for you, hedgehog. Because it will be very different."

Sonic sagged back against the concrete in exhaustion, letting his head roll against the cool floor and his eyes slide shut. The potential gravity of his situation was beginning to sink in and it left an icy chill in his stomach. And this . . . sly, bitter, strange woman didn't care. He'd never seen her before today and yet she seemed to hate him, the vibes that she emitted quivering with slick distaste.

He couldn't figure her out. And though he'd guessed she planned, somehow, to use him, or the power ring, or _both_, to gain something for herself by cutting a deal with 'Buttface, he wasn't sure of the specifics. He didn't think he'd be able to get very far on foot . . .

Unless Safira dragged him. Sonic didn't like the thought of that. He cracked open one eye, observing her silently from the corner of it; the feline was carefully stuffing the power ring into her own small bag of supplies, hanging from the shoulder strap close to her bony hip. She didn't appear to be paying him much attention.

His brain buzzed. It had all the makings of an impulse moment, of the kind that were generally the main reason his companions ended up yelling at him. Safira looked capable of doing rather more than yelling at him if she didn't like his actions, which she _wouldn't_, but consequences weren't a part of the impulse moment package deal. The idea had flashed through his mind in a split second and then he was doing it, all rational thought cast aside.

Sonic's torso twisted with a tremendous flare of agony that made his vision blur and his other senses dizzy, but the motion was powerful and sudden enough to propel him from his vulnerable position. To her credit, Safira didn't act surprised or startled that the captive blue hedgehog was flying towards her with arms outstretched to barrel her to the ground. Neither did she attempt to shoot him again.

But she did raise the heavy weapon, and she did predict quite accurately that within a few quick steps, the pounding required of Sonic's feet to make him move as fast as he needed to overcome her would make his pain unbearable, and the hedgehog to fall forward and collapse a few feet short of her.

Sonic fell. His hands flailed to prevent that inevitable close and personal meeting with the concrete, but when you're rocketing forward there's only so much you can do to muffle the intensity of a stumble. With a mental cry of anguish, the hedgehog craned his head away from the impending floor, and jarred every protesting bone and tendon in his body as the rest of it collided.

She could have left him panting on his belly, groaning with the force of his impact, but Safira wasn't about to let the rebellion go unpunished; she stepped to his side, dropping into a languid crouch, her claws already unsheathing and extending from her paws as a set of glistening bone shards with which she brutally grabbed the hedgehog's ear, near tearing his head from his shoulders in a successful attempt to grab his attention.

"Try that again," she hissed in tones that _rang_ with violence, her breath hot and fetid in his ear, "and you'll find yourself missing a body part. Do I make myself clear?"

Sonic didn't reply, attempting to prevent his ear from being ripped off with weakly flapping hands. His limbs felt strangely lethargic and not altogether attached to his body. That didn't stop him from emitting a weak complaint, however, as she twisted his arms behind his back and began to tightly wind them together with something thin and coarse he couldn't see from his disadvantaged position. Whatever it was, it bit into his forearms with gritty inflexibility, and she was merciless in her binding – Sonic could already feel his muscles stiffen and cramp in protest.

It was a losing battle, a mocking voice laughed in the back of his head. Safira, for whatever reason, had him pinned and caught and he wasn't going anywhere except wherever it was she wanted him to go. Bunnie . . . Bunnie would get suspicious if he was gone too long, she'd call in the cavalry . . .

But as he blinked groggily up at the feline, he knew she didn't intend to stay here for long. How long had he been out? How far was he from his original location? He was too disoriented to make a guess.

"What are you gonna do?"

Safira peered down through slitted eyes at him, taking the time to adjust her shoulder strap and various belongings before deigning to respond.

"You already know," she hissed in deadpan tones. "I'm handing you in to Robotnik."

A bitter, malicious little grin succeeded in flashing all of her tiny, vicious teeth. The expression was unnerving enough, but the remark it preceded was enough to fill him with stony dread.

"What happens to you after that is surely up to _him_."


	3. Three

Sonic, wall. Wall, Sonic.

He wished she'd say that. Crack a joke, a pun, do _something_ to demonstrate some vague, embedded sense of humour, no matter how perverse or malicious, but Safira was as cold as a 'bot. In fact, the only time he saw any passion in those opalescent eyes was when she was angry.

And Sonic was good at making her angry. He gathered this from the number of times she'd slammed him into nearby brickwork – like now, for example. Steady on his feet he wasn't, but yet again, he'd done his best to linger dangerously in open view of the SWATbots as Safira had tried to drag him down another disorienting, abandoned street. It was the key to her temper – make her lose control, become a liability. Then she'd burn with fury, eyes flashing, face snarling, every muscle in her stringy body taut enough to snap. He needed to see that emotion, because he needed to constantly remind himself that she _wasn't_ a robot, and that this was betrayal of the worst kind.

As Sonic still reeled from his introduction with this particular alley wall, she went one step further and lashed a foot into his. The hedgehog came down heavy and on entirely the wrong side, and for a moment all of his bitter little distant thoughts were consumed by a flare of indescribable pain that left him rigidly fighting for breath.

Safira peered out into the street while he writhed, but the SWATbots were moving away. As soon as they were out of immediate earshot, she stepped to Sonic's side, hissing down at him in an infuriated spray of saliva.

"Can you not do as you're told for even one instant? You stupid, stupid, _brainless_ creature –"

"Say it," Sonic wheezed, grimacing and squeezing one eye closed against the barrage of spittle. "Don't spray it."

Surprisingly, the cat blinked, apparently caught off guard by the remark. It didn't last long, however; a scowl quickly stole back her features, and she turned furiously to the street, a deep rumble of fury still audible from deep in her throat.

"You are deliberately trying to get me caught."

"And the award for the quickest kitty in the whole of Mobius goes to –" Sonic vibrated his tongue against the roof of his mouth in a passable parody of a drumroll. ". . . Safira!"

She didn't immediately respond. Sonic watched her for a moment afterwards, his brow furrowed in confusion at the absent, but thoroughly expected, retaliation. After a while the silence began to unnerve him, as accustomed as he was to fighting tension with inane banter, so he spoke again.

"Why not, anyway? Why not just present yourself to the SWATbots with your 'prize'?"

His voice dripped sarcasm, and Safira's tail gave one final swish beneath the cloak before she turned around entirely to sneer at him.

"They'd shoot me where I stand. SWATbots are incapable of reason – they'll just follow their orders to get you and your accomplices. I need to be in control and the bartering must take place on my terms."

"Yeah. See, that last part is usually where bits go wrong for dudes and dudettes such as yourself." Sonic adopted an informative tone of voice, but it was unavoidably tainted by a faint, dreamy quality induced by his thorough exhaustion. "Ol' 'Buttnik only barters on _his_ terms. He doesn't _do_ deals unless he gets _everything_ out of them."

"Undoubtedly," Safira purred patiently, "he is used to stupid people attempting to barter with him. I am not stupid. Why are you so eager to get yourself killed, whatever happens? Are you that afraid of him you would rather die than let him get his hands on you?" She flashed a grin, malicious and twisted, and dropped to her haunches, sliding almost seductively toward Sonic's prone form. "It must be fear."

"Shut up." The dreamlike quality was gone and Sonic's negative response bore all the force of a hammer to a skull. "I am _not_ afraid of Robotnik."

"Really? Then tell me."

"'Cause I'd rather be taken down by 'Buttnik himself than handed to him on a plate by a traitor."

It wasn't entirely true. Choices like that weren't made for brains like Sonic's – he would do his damnedest to make sure Robotnik didn't get him either way, but it _sounded_ good, and he could see cogs whirling in that infinitely active brain of Safira's through her vivid eyes. However she'd silently reacted to the statement, it had at least made her think.

Not that making enemies think was, under any circumstances, a good thing.

Casting one long look back at the street, Safira turned further into the alley, hunkering down on her haunches and tugging a small, plastic flask from the back of her belt. When she gave it a shake, the most tantalising liquid sloshing came from within. Sonic did his best not to stare at it, but he was _mondo_ thirsty.

Except his hands were tied. That would mean Safira would have to help him drink. Embarrassing _and_ lame. Sonic puffed out a sigh as she jiggled it at him.

"Okay, okay. But juice it, I've got a reputation to keep, and, last I checked, bottle feeding isn't in anyway gonna give me plus points in street cred."

Safira grinned, and popped the cap off the flask before venturing closer to him, and despite himself, Sonic felt his ears flatten in relief as he managed to clasp the flask's neck in his mouth and swallow the sudden outpour of cool water. The satisfaction of rehydrating by far dispelled any discomfort Safira's continued grinning, staring face might have instilled.

"I think he would have liked you," she purred, and unexpectedly pulled the flask from Sonic before he could drain its full contents. While the hedgehog caught his breath, she proceeded to return the item to her belt, apparently lacking any intention to elaborate on her comment.

Sonic decided to push his luck. He figured he had little of it left to lose.

"Who's 'he'?"

He lost nothing, much to his relief, but he didn't gain an answer, either. Safira simply didn't respond, rising to her feet and calmly glancing around to reassert her bearings.

"I see," Sonic said after a moment, in a ponderous, trying-to-sound-intelligent voice. "Trying to keep up your enigmatic . . . _thing_ you have going on, is that right? At least tell me if this 'he' would have let me go if he'd've liked me so much, huh?"

Safira laughed. The sound emerged as a guttural purr from the depths of her throat, but it was most certainly a laugh.

"No," she said, quite confidently. "He would have stuck to the plan."

The feline gestured Sonic to his feet, and when he struggled to obey, she grabbed his bound arms and yanked him up in a less than graceful fashion. Within seconds she had the gun pressed to his spine again, pushing him onwards, their little moment of peace apparently ended. But Safira's mind appeared to linger on the topics covered, her expression not altogether focused.

"We always stuck to the plans," she murmured. Whether this pleased her or not, Sonic couldn't tell. But you didn't have to be a genius to see that one of these plans had evidently not produced the desired results. Good thing, too, 'cause Sonic was certainly no genius. Except on good days. And even then he usually managed to be one by accident.

Sonic stared out over a pitted wasteland, his eyes glassy and impassive. Concrete torn up by 'bots, scorched by laser bursts; the occasional twisted entanglement of once vibrantly painted metal dotted the landscape like an array of giant, motionless tumbleweeds. There was a small area of dirt-ridden sand towards one end of the vast, open space, littered with debris, and poking out of it was the only surviving icon of what the place had once been – a slide, standing on four sturdy wooden legs, with the ladder still in place, even. That it had survived while the playground and school yard around it had succumbed to the rain of destruction was ridiculous, impossible, but somehow inspiring.

One slide. Sonic felt a memory wriggle through the numbness of his brain, the same memory that always rose to the surface when he saw that lonely landmark: the playground, throbbing with children, and Uncle Chuck's warm hands under his arms, lifting him up onto that ladder and pushing him from the top . . . Before he'd been able to walk, let alone run, it had been his first experience of the wind rushing past him, of the thrill of a sudden, continuous burst of speed. One of his earliest childhood memories. Amazing that it had survived so long, both the swing and the recollection. Sonic had gone through a phase once of panicking that he might forget everything, suddenly becoming determined to write _everything_ down . . . and then losing the patience to write anything at all once the paper was in front of him. His usual characteristic impatience coupled with the myriad thoughts and memories that always fell on him when he tried to do it made the task simply impossible.

In a way, he'd simply resigned himself to losing some of the memories. Sally always reassured him that they'd never be gone, just . . . stowed away. But clinging so hard to the past would have made it difficult to confront the present, confront sights like this one, and so he had learned to let go.

At least he knew where he was now. He didn't want Safira to know he knew, but he suspected she would anyway, considering she had so much info on him already. Sonic wouldn't be much of a freedom fighter if he hadn't been 'round the ol' city a few times, huh? The inner alleyways, sure, easy to get lost in, they all looked alike, but the playgrounds? The schools? Piece of cake.

"So what exactly are you trading me in for, huh?"

He waited with uncharacteristic patience for a response, but Safira offered none. Since she was so preoccupied, Sonic sank exhaustedly into a sitting position on the dusty floor of the second floor lounge the feline had led them to, and the dismal sight of the playground became mercifully obscured behind the jagged fragments of fractured, opaque glass that still clung adamantly to their window frame. Robotnik had converted a good number of the city's existing buildings into factories and warehouses of his own dire design, but the one they stood in now was one of the remaining original pieces of Mobitropolitan architecture. He and the other freedom fighters had occasionally used it as a meeting place after missions; it had three floors and walls that were, in parts, entirely reflective glass, so that where that glass still stood, you could look out for patrols around the building and not be seen by those SWATbots with purely visual sensors.

Sonic glanced left towards a dilapidated receptionists' counter, where Safira was currently perched, her vivid eyes fixed on the desolate landscape they faced. He wasn't sure what she'd stopped for, but he was glad of it all the same – Sonic the Hedgehog was utterly, undeniably, painfully and uncharacteristically _out of juice_. He let himself drop backwards, finding lying flat far less achingly painful than attempting to sit up. His side still burned; the injury was slowly but surely draining all his remaining strength, and he had no doubt Safira would continue to drag him on regardless . . .

"It's almost nightfall," the cat said suddenly, her eyes drawn to the part of the landscape her captive had been trying extremely hard not too look at – that parody of a palace, that testimony of ego, that ugly abstract effigy of Dr Robotnik towering miles above all other dull, metallic buildings.

Sonic blinked at her. "Nightfall? How can you tell?"

It wasn't as ridiculous a question as it sounded. Nonetheless, Safira awarded him a humourless smile. "You get used to distinguishing between smog, and dark. You move too fast, so you don't see these things."

The hedgehog's ears pricked at the criticism, a dissatisfied frown twisting his mouth. "Whatever, lady. You'd have to have chilli dogs for brains to want to spend any longer than absolutely necessary in this hole."

"I'm fairly sure there is something more substantial than that between my ears. And I have survived in both of this 'hole's' forms."

Alarm bells rang. Sonic arched an eyebrow, rolling his head to the side to peer at her with renewed curiosity. "You say that like Mobitropolis was a _bad_ place . . ."

"For some of us, it was."

"Oh, come on. What could possibly be as bad as Ro_butt_nik?"

Safira turned a warning glare on him, infused with such anger that Sonic immediately regretted having asked at all. His eyes widened as she rose from the desk and began to stride purposefully towards him, her fury near tangible, so that Sonic involuntarily flinched when she dropped to her haunches beside him.

"Mobitropolis was not the perfect home you remember it as, not for everyone. I couldn't care less about what the city looks like, or who is running it – _nothing_ has changed for me since it became Robotropolis."

Sonic remained rigid against the floor, staring up at her angry, contorted features and wondering, not for the first time, why she was so perpetually enraged. Even when she looked calm, she was angry inside, the flames of whatever had her goat endlessly roiling inside her. And then the hedgehog felt a glimmer of his own irritation, enough to prompt him to wrestle back to a sitting position and fix her with a penetrating, though somehow childishly abused look.

"_Nothing_ has changed? You're kidding. Tell me you're kidding, Safira."

She glided to her feet, and turned away from him in disgust. "I 'kid' not."

"But, Robotnik!" Sonic writhed in a useless attempt to propel himself to a standing position, momentarily oblivious to any pain in his stark incomprehension of Safira's mindset. "You _must_ hate Robotnik."

"No." Safira ran her fingers over the windowsill, peering out at the devastation that had held Sonic so horribly transfixed with little more than a sniff. "No more than Acorn. In fact, less so. He simply took an opportunity to better himself, as we all do – all of us who know of real life, that is, not the sugar-coated wonderland Mobitropolis paraded itself around as."

Sonic felt a different kind of pain; the pain of having everything that matters to you swept aside as unimportant, of having already aching memories laughed at. One was all too quick to be recalled, leaping to his mental fingertips as his loathsome encounters with his most hated adversary began to pile up in his thoughts – that of waiting agonisingly on the conveyor belt, and watching his Uncle go before him into the blinding light of the Robotociser.

Of his only remaining familial link's flesh stiffen into metallic form, and the light of his warm, intelligent eyes consumed by reddish, robotic glow.

Sonic squeezed his eyes closed.

"Robotnik is a monster." Abruptly his eyes snapped open again, returning to Safira in disbelief. "You must have seen the queues, the families rounded up! The _robots_ coming out the other side of the building!"

"Of course I did." Safira grunted, flicking a claw at the rigid glass fragments with a faint smirk. "It was the only occasion I could thank King Acorn for – he wouldn't accept me as a citizen in his precious Mobitropolis on my terms, and so I wasn't listed where Robotnik could easily access my location as he did with every other family in the city."

"You . . . didn't care?"

"_Care_?" Her paw curled around a chunk of the fractured glass and snapped it from its frame. She whirled and hurled the shard at Sonic, who immediately cringed away as it shattered on the floor inches from his feet. "Care for _whom_? People of a society who would rather pretend we didn't exist than care for us in turn? Couldn't have a few deviant families spoiling Mobitropolis' little utopia, could they? And that divot King Acorn was too wrapped up in his stupid war to look at the problems it was causing right under his nose. So don't talk to me of _caring_, hedgehog. On your feet!"

Sonic stared, open-mouthed, his legs failing to obey the command. When he failed to move, she took a threatening step forward, raising the gun from her side.

"I said, on your feet! Or should I assist you?"

That was enough to get him struggling onto his knees, panting against the strain of his injury. He had hit a raw nerve, one that was open for access in both himself and Safira, but while he simply couldn't comprehend her point of view, she reacted with aggression. Man. Even Sal's bad moods were never this intense.

Safira kept the laser trained on him, her mouth drawn to one side in an ugly snarl. "You stupid freedom fighters are fighting for an illusion. A new life," she said sharply, her voice without remorse. "Away from this city, away from _you_, away from everything. It is the only thing I cannot achieve with my own resources. That is what you will be traded in for."

Sonic could see that an invitation to Knothole would probably not appeal to the feline, but nonetheless, her idea was so selfish, so . . . so _within his grasp_ to solve, he couldn't help but open his mouth and protest.

"Wait! Wait, Safira, you don't need to do this! I could show you the route we take out to Knothole, you could make a break through the Great Forest –"

"No, I cannot!" Safira stepped past him, grabbing his bonds from behind and quite literally dragging him backwards towards the stairwell that would take them back to the ground floor. "Because of _you_, Robotnik has had the Great Forest under constant surveillance and heavy security for years. Do you not think I would have used that route if I could?"

"But you can get through the security! Sal and I have done it . . . You just need to juice it, be smart, stay sharp, you could do it easily on your own . . ."

"No."

"But . . ."

Sonic's voice trailed off as he struggled to hop backwards down the steps after her, the cat's grip merciless and her speed hardly considerate of the fact that walking forwards and in a straight line was currently a challenge for him, let alone navigating stairs without being able to see them. Something told him that he wasn't going to get any further with the Great Forest spin – for whatever reason, Safira had completely crossed it off her potential escape route list. And it surely had to be a good reason for her to go to all this trouble as an alternative . . . right?

They hit ground floor. Though they were moving quickly, it was nothing approaching the speeds Sonic was accustomed to, and as Safira had suggested, he noticed that it seemed darker than before, a heavy glaze of shadow coating everything in sight. He had little time to absorb the subtlety, of course, because as they approached the blown-in doors that formed the building's sullen entrance, Safira spun him around to face the right direction.

"We will be making no more stops. Robotnik's headquarters is our next destination." Safira's furry lips drew back over her vicious fangs in an intimidating snarl. Just before she leant out of the opening to scan the immediate area for threats, she paused to hiss a further warning at her captive. "And I'd appreciate a _silent_ journey, thank you very much."

Sonic sighed. There were a lot of things he would have appreciated at that moment, and Safira offered none of them.


	4. Four

From then on, the pace became almost unbearable.

Robotnik was a genius; scientifically sharp, strategically brilliant, maliciously uncompromising. But he was also a fat slob and it showed – the closer Sonic and Safira drew to the ruined city's central tower, the more the landscape became malformed with immense garbage heaps and rejected, malfunctioning equipment. Robotnik simply couldn't be bothered to deal with scrap in an efficient way and so it got dumped quickly and messily as close to home as he could get away with. The best he'd managed had been high-walled enclosures to stuff his mechanical leftovers in, and they stood tightly packed around the egotist's main base of operations like sad, crammed graveyards.

Considering they were known to occasionally cough up an inanimate robotocised Mobian, 'graveyard' wasn't all too inappropriate a term, either.

Sonic almost bumped into Safira as she stopped short, and the feline turned to give him a sharp, suspicious look, which Sonic returned with a wide-eyed, weary "Are you crazy?" expression of his own. The cat could hardly complain; he hadn't spoken a word since they'd left the building overlooking the old playground – partly because he was so tired and in pain and all he could muster was a grating panting noise at the pace she was dragging him; she'd even removed the rope to make him move quicker, since he was in no state to be pulling any stunts like his first one. But also because it was clear he was wasting his breath anyway, and it would be better to reserve his energy for some serious thinking.

It was activity Sonic was unaccustomed to, but they were drawing very close to his enemy's headquarters now and he was in acute danger. _Real_ danger. Before it had only been a distant prospect with any number of escape opportunities in between, but now he was near the unpleasant end of the ordeal and still bound and limping like a prisoner of war. They were near the dumping zones, which meant, if he could get free or Safira took a particular route, he could try to get some help from Uncle Chuck . . .

Safira seemed to read nothing untoward in his face, and swiftly turned back to their original heading, hauling him all the while behind her. A few times now they'd almost been caught by SWATbots – security was always tighter around the citadel, not that it ever kept Sonic out if he needed to be inside it. Safira didn't have his speed and bold, bare-faced cheek though; she was wary, subtle, sinuously stealthy and cautious. She led him down dizzying secret routes he would wager even Nicole wouldn't know about, dark and forbidding ways slick with debris where the rain had caught in the clogged drains and churned the dirt on the floor into a thick, gritty silt. Sonic couldn't fail to notice the sets of pawprints that had been scraped away scattered in the stuff, _almost_ indiscernible if you weren't paying attention, and wondered if any of the multiple tracks belonged to Safira's mysterious "he". Whatever had happened to him, the feline seemed to running solo now.

But that only frustrated him further. If she was on her own, why didn't she attempt to break through the Great Forest security? Travelling within it wasn't much of a pain if you knew what you were doing, and getting clear of it entirely was only an extra step harder. But no, she had to shoot one of her own, drag his wounded butt all the way to _'Buttnik_ and . . .

And there was an extra helping of pollution in the air.

Sonic tilted his head, grimacing as he sniffed to trace the tangible scent, and in the near distance, beyond one of the high, metallic walls of the nearest dumping ground complex, were the searchlights of a scoutship, circling lazily like a swollen bumblebee over the mounds and mounds of garbage. Extending from its belly was a flexible scoop arm, aimlessly shovelling through the debris, and Sonic shook his head with a snort of amusement. Robotnik would never find anything _that_ way.

All he could do was yelp in pain as Safira suddenly snatched his arm, her claws deliberately unfurled from their delicate little sheaths and a mad urgency colouring her wild eyes.

"What's going on? What are they doing?"

Sonic winced, his eyes narrowing as she forced her face right up against his. " . . . what? We intercepted a message a good few days ago now that Robotnik was increasing his security around the dumping zones. He's suspicious of freedom fighter activity there. It's –"

And then he was released, staggering over onto his side with a hiss of pain. By the time he'd gathered enough of his wits to look up, Safira was a dirty blot several spans away, down on all fours and faster than anything he'd ever seen besides himself.

He blinked, struggling to sit up. Just like that, he was free. Heading back would be a nightmare, but he could definitely find a place nearby to hide in case Safira came back for him, where he could take a breather until he felt strong enough to make his getaway. Bunnie would surely have alerted the others by now to his absence – they might even be scouring the city for him. And yet . . .

Sonic sighed, turning to stare mournfully after Safira's retreating figure. She'd turned now, mounting some part of the wall and scrambling up it as though her life depended on it. Before, she'd made out her escape was the most important thing in the world. Why would she just abandon her perceived key to it in the blink of an eye after going through the trouble to drag him all this way?

It was curiosity, partly. But also some other instinctive pull; the compulsive desire to fix whatever was broken with Safira. She'd shot him but she was still a Mobian, and evidently a desperate one.

Sonic straightened, his mind made up the split second later in which he remembered she still had his backpack, and _the power ring_! Couldn't leave an unspent one of those lying around for Robotnik to find, oh no. Besides, Safira might still want to use it for bartering and _why was he still thinking?_

The hedgehog clambered to his feet, flexing his tired limbs and half-jogging, half-limping after the feline. His speed was pathetic but it was all he could muster, and he didn't have far to go compared to the distance he'd already travelled. What was a few extra yards of slog, huh? As he reached the base of the area of wall Safira had begun to climb, he noticed scratch marks in the metal, around the nodules and crevices that mechanically patterned the material, leading in a vertical path towards its apex. On such close inspection, it was obviously a climbing route – no wonder the scoutship had decided to wander over this particular dumping zone.

Gritting his teeth, Sonic drove his fingers into the first crevice. He'd gone no more than a few painful metres when he heard the whining blast of Safira's stolen laser, and then again. The acidic rain had pitted the metal's surface but also made it slick, and Sonic slipped several times in his urgency, slamming his nose hard enough against the wall to make stars explode in front of his eyes. When he finally managed to get a quivering hand on the top rim of the encircling wall, he was just in time to see Safira bashed to the ground with a brutal snap of the scoutship's appendage.

She lay sprawled on the dirt before one of the mountainous heaps of trash, conscious but, for some reason he couldn't grasp, not getting up. The feline glanced skywards, caught his eye, and then turned her head furiously away, her gaze swinging back to the rubbish behind her.

"What are you doing? Run!" he hissed beneath his breath, but Safira didn't move. Maybe she was hurt? She looked fine, more impatient or annoyed than in pain, and then he didn't have time to question it anymore because the scoop-arm swept her up and tossed her into its belly like any other piece of debris it might find strewn around. Its lights, whirling with security alarms, abruptly glanced up and across the wall, and Sonic ducked just in time to avoid being caught in its beam, waiting until the glow had shifted from the edge before daring to peer back over it.

Its purpose complete, the scoutship was circling lazily away, droning off toward the not-so-distant ugly monolith that was Robotnik's citadel and taking Safira with it. He could scarcely get his head around what had just happened; it had moved too fast, even for him. The hedgehog rolled over the wall's top, finding a similar sequence of handholds and footrests on this side. On any normal day he might have considered just jumping down, but today was not a normal day, even by freedom fighter standards.

Several painful slips later and he was at the bottom, his legs feeling shaky with exhaustion. Uncle Chuck's hideout was in a different compound and he didn't feel like scaling anymore walls, so he sat down in the place where Safira had been lying after being struck, hoping vainly to gain some insight into her way of thinking.

There had been no real logic to it. She'd abandoned her plan, charged into the dumping compound and deliberately drawn attention to herself, deliberately allowed herself to be caught.

Sacrifice. It had to have been something along those lines. But for who, or what? That mysterious "he"? Sonic didn't think so – Safira had only ever talked about "him" in the past tense, which suggested "he" was no longer around at all. Then some possession? Pfft, in this place? Well, stranger things had happened, but Sonic had no idea what to look for or where to look under all this rubbish. He only knew that _something_ had prompted Safira to blindly rush in and get herself captured, something she'd rated as a higher priority than her own freedom and safety.

The hedgehog stared hard at the ground, uncharacteristically thoughtful.

" _. . . you could do it easily on your own . . ."_

"_No."_

She wasn't alone. Was that it? Sonic turned, directing his furrowed brow and concentrated gaze at the non-descript slope of debris behind him. It wasn't _entirely_ non-descript . . . there were bits that seemed like they were meant to look natural, but didn't. Pieces that had been carefully aligned to look as though they'd fallen that way, but somehow didn't seem quite right. Sonic thought of Uncle Chuck's hideaway within an equally non-descript heap of trash, and then he scrambled forward, reaching for the nearest, biggest piece of scrap.

It was some warped sheet of metal, bent as though it had taken a heavy hit, and he tossed it to one side. Pretty soon it was accompanied by a miscellany of similar scraps, devices and materials that were no longer useful, and eventually Sonic hit something that refused to be removed like the rest. Hard and curving to the touch, the plate of dark plastic was firmly, _deliberately_ wedged in place, and he was forced to scoop out the debris around it instead until the thick material could give way. Sonic pulled it out with as much patience as he could manage, wary of bringing down more rubbish in its place.

A deep, dark, warm space encapsulated by a meticulously constructed frame of metal slates confronted him once the way was clear. Sonic leaned forward, peering close.

Half a dozen pairs of tiny, gleaming, opalescent eyes gazed back at him.

"_That_ is meant to be a _freedom fighter_?"

The skinny lump of matted fur in the corner of the cell offered no answer, completely silent, and with her rather intriguing multi-hued eyes directed at the opposing corner with quiet dignity. Doctor Robotnik gave a snort that ruffled his lank moustache, his lip curling in a disgusted sneer. The creature wasn't worth spitting on.

Beside him, Snively fidgeted and fumbled with a computerised notepad, his teeth clenched in an ever-anxious grimace as he tapped away at the keys. The robotocised bird accompanying him stared blankly ahead, its only purpose to carry the bundle of ratty belongings presumably taken from the prisoner.

"No, sir, we don't think so. But you did request additional surveillance over the waste disp-"

Robotnik snarled, saliva glistening on his quivering lower lip. Never the ones that counted, only the dregs of the population that still somehow roamed _his_ city. It was easy enough to tell; he'd been in enough contact with the freedom fighters and even had glorious opportunities to analyse them fully at his whim, to know that wherever they were hiding had a plentiful supply of resources. It was one of the very factors that pointed toward the Great Forest as their little hidey hole; making that area more mechanically efficient was forever on his to-do list with Sonic and those whelps interrupting his operations there.

But occasionally he would find stray survivors from within the city itself; disorganised, desperate, and struggling to find their way in a place no longer suited for _organic_ wastes of space like the Mobians were. This one looked no different – stripped of her tattered clothes, the bare patches and matted clumps in her fur stood out like a tangible disease, the tension in her frame only emphasising the protrusion of her ribs from her skinny chest, and the _smell_ that radiated from the disgusting, malnourished specimen was diabolical.

"She's not a healthy specimen," he said after a moment with an unconcerned wave of his hand. "But she might make a functioning workerbot for a few months." Robotnik's face split in a ferocious grin, but to his annoyance, the cat did not even blink. As usual, he turned and took out his vexation on his budding minion. "Schedule her for robotocisation and stop wasting my time!"

"But, _Sir_ . . ." Snively raised a quavering hand, immediately flinching back as though expecting a blow for his insistence. Then he swept it toward his accompanying slave and its burden. "S-she had some interesting things in her possession."

"Define interesting and remember how high my standards are for entertainment."

Snively snatched the bundle out of the Mobian's arms, quickly discarding the feline's cloak and two lasers that appeared to have belonged to SWATbots, which fell with a clunk to the floor. Robotnik was rightly not interested in those, but the worn, brown canvas of the backpack that Snively presented him with made his ugly eyes gleam with intrigue, his quivering lips spread in a vile smile.

"That looks very familiar," he remarked, his hands greedily snatching up the article. And then his leering face was bathed in a golden glow as he peeled back the satchel flap. Robotnik slammed his metal fist against the bars of the cell, snapping his greedy eyes on the scrawny feline within. "Where did you get this?"

The cat didn't answer, or even look his way. That irritated the Doctor immensely, but there were ways of making such creatures talk. Recently he'd been experimenting with partial robotocisation, encoding memories and thoughts for extraction at his own whim. _Whatever_, there was no rush! Robotnik laughed nastily, squeezing the backpack and its contents in both hands.

"We have work to do, Snively. Double the patrols – if this is some trap set up by the hedgehog, I want to know. And delay robotocising the cat for now – there are a few things I'd like to try with her, later. _In person_. How does that sound, my dear?"

Robotnik rattled the bars again with a solid thump from his robotocised arm when she didn't respond, spitting venom. There was nothing in her, no rage at being captured, no acceptance of her fate – just a quiet, impenetrable dignity she evidently insisted on keeping raised. And he hated not making an impact.

"You may have dignity, my sweet," he leered. "But dignity won't save you from the hell I'll be putting _you_ through. I'll be back later."

As they exited that particular prison block, Robotnik paused to peer at the monitor showing her cell, certain that now she thought she was alone, the feline's shell would crack. But she hadn't moved at all. Her resilience infuriated him.

Before he left, he made sure to put his fist through the screen. Robotnik was all about expression.


	5. Five

"When I get my hands on you, Sonic, I'll hit you so hard, you'll have to run all the way from last Wednesday to catch up again."

Bunnie patted the shaking squirrel on the shoulder with her organic hand. "Ah'm worried about him too, Sally, but he's probably fine."

The pair of them stared at the downed SWATbot, Bunnie oddly caught between comforting her companion and trying very hard not to incite her anger, partially to blame as she was. Although, strong as Bunnie could be, she didn't think dragging that boisterous hedgehog back with her would have been possible at all. Unless she'd knocked him out first. Either way, it was a lose-lose situation in terms of bringing down Sally's wrath upon herself like a tonne of bricks.

But for now, Bunnie was spared. Her friend stood beside her, quivering with an odd mixture of fury and upset, the urgency of the situation too immediate for her to worry about assigning blame. That still didn't solve the problem, however; Sonic was missing. The only notable point of interest in the search was this SWATbot, long since finished its smoking and electrical twitching, but from there the trail was stone cold and dead as Robotnik's sense of compassion.

Sally sighed, shaking her head and scraping back her hair from her eyes. "The city is such a big place. It's been hours and hours since Sonic was last seen here, and considering how fast he can move, we can't set a useful search perimeter."

With a grunt, Rotor clambered up from his close examination of the floor, brushing down his coat. "No good. I can't really make anything out. Not the kind of ground for leaving footprints, and no other pointers. Robotnik could have him . . ."

With her free hand, Sally flicked open Nicole, addressing the computer with a steady voice. "Nicole, the log of intercepted messages, please. Content search for any pertaining to Sonic's capture."

Even with Uncle Chuck helping them, transmission interception was a painstaking chore. Robotnik was constantly revising his encryption methods – there were often huge gaps in the compiled logs, or sequences where the messages appeared to be all gibberish because the protocol had changed. But to a degree it didn't matter; Robotnik loved to hear himself talk and most of his messages were ridiculous attempts to incite fear in robotocised slave workers who were only capable of feeling obedience, or to assert his authority, or to complain about some other freedom fighter success or failed plan. They were only good for cutting and editing to make fake messages in Robotnik's distinctive voice to deceive security or, more importantly, play at special occasions in Knothole for an amusing reaction, a task Rotor prided himself on.

"_No results found, Sally. Revise search?_"

Sally cursed under her breath. "There must be something, anything. Nicole, revise search to anything pertaining to any capture since Sonic's disappearance."

"_Searching. Three results found._"

"Play them please, Nicole."

The small group of freedom fighters huddled against the wall, the tinny sound of the first messages strangely eerie in the relative quiet of Robotropolis. Bunnie's eyes roamed the smog-thick channel of sky visible overhead between the tall walls of the alley, rolling just a bit further as the recording droned on about 'capturing' some old, abandoned Mobian hideout somewhere in the rubble. Sally skipped to the next message, and the three of them were instantly alert.

"_Scoutship A#237a returning to base from waste disposal zone 24: carrying live Mobian subject, identity unknown. ETA seven minutes . . ._"

"Can't be Sonic," Rotor said with a frown, scratching thoughtfully at one tusk. "If it had caught Sonic, it would have been blaring that out."

"It's the only lead we have, Rotor . . ."

"But it could be entirely unrelated."

Sally snapped Nicole closed, tucking the computer inside her vest pocket. "Well, regardless, the message only came in less than an hour ago, and if Robotnik's captured one of our own, we're obliged to see if we can rescue them. If we find Sonic on the way, so much the better. He could be there trying to help them already."

Accepting that Sonic himself might be in trouble was something Bunnie knew was difficult; mud never stuck to that hog. That was why she gave Rotor a stern look to suggest he didn't protest Sally's decision.

"To ol' Roboface's HQ then, am Ah right?" The rabbit nodded toward her friend. "Lead the way, Sally-girl."

The princess inhaled a deep breath before pointing one slender arm toward the ruined city's epicentre.

"Let's move out."

The shadows seemed to hum as they danced; the great fan casting and altering them swung with pendular rhythm, pumping hot, tainted air into the darkness of the vent. Any air was better than none, however, and Sonic lay on his back, watching the shadows shift as the spinning blades distorted them, his chest rising and falling with laboured breaths.

The ruins of a vent-sentrybot lay just beyond his feet, metal cogs and wires and limbs scattered about the broad airduct. Robotnik's headquarters were so reliant on metal and machines that the interior would be unbearably hot without a suitable ventilation structure, and fortunately for the freedom fighters this meant that there were plenty of routes to sneak in and out of. But the good Doctor was well aware of such trips, and if he couldn't close them down entirely, he did his best to make them impassable; surveillance sentrybots regularly zoomed through the system. They were easy enough to destroy, but not without their disappearance alerting security. Sonic knew he'd have to hurry and get out of this system before they sent something bigger after him.

He expelled one last heavy breath before rolling over, steadying himself on hands and knees before pushing himself to his feet entirely. His limp was bad now; even in his mind, Sonic was beyond the stage of jokes. He shouldn't have done so much running to get here . . . but he'd had to, or he'd have ended up stuck with Safira in some cell anyway. Probably a straightforward way of reaching her, but not exactly the most beneficial. Robotnik must have upped security, so he was forced to take the most abstract, roundabout route possible. His spines were slick with grime, his head ached, his stomach growled, his throat was dry, his side _pulsed_ with every step – but everytime he felt like giving up and retreating to get back-up, he saw those eyes again.

Six pairs of them. Suddenly a lot of things had begun to make sense, about Safira, and her strange decisions and motivations and limitations. Sonic had covered them back up as best he could and then sped off on an ad hoc rescue attempt.

And so far, so good. He was two floors away from the prison complex and there was an elevator shaft that would take him neatly to the right level. Sonic wasn't quite sure when it was that sneaking around Robotnik's convoluted lair without detection had begun to give him a sense of warped satisfaction, but now it never failed. Though slighting his hated enemy in any way whatsoever was always enough to make his day.

The vent ended one way with a grille, ascending impassably in the other direction. On a good day he might build up enough speed to shoot straight up the vertical surface, but today was not a good day, so Sonic peered out of the grille's slats into a long, utilitarian corridor. It seemed empty, but Sonic was missing his backpack and any mundane tools that might have helped him remove the grille.

Releasing a long-suffering sigh, the hedgehog felt for the screws in the corners, conversely grinning when the first one was loose enough to twist free; obviously he and his companions had been this way before. Well, Sally at least; she always cleared up whatever mess she left behind, if she miraculously made any in the first place. Sonic was far less earnest on that account. He might make an effort today though; after that encounter with the sentrybot, he had to be as careful as he could.

The grille came away freely and Sonic shuffled out into the narrow corridor, setting it up behind him to seem as though it hadn't been touched with his ears cocked all the while for the slightest hint of noise. The hallway, however, remained empty and silent, so the hedgehog rose from his crouch and began to creep along, keeping close to the left wall. He was only halfway to the elevator at the end before a mechanical hum suddenly reverberated through the metal surfaces – and the lights on the lift control panel started to flicker.

Sonic bolted – toward the elevator. There were small niches in the walls either side of the sliding doors, where tangled lengths of cables amassed, and the hedgehog targeted the left one, ignoring his injury in favour of getting out of sight before whomever was descending could spot him.

He slammed into the alcove, forcing himself back into the thick tendrils and hunching close to the floor, making himself as flat and inconspicuous as possible – no easy feat when you're bright blue. But nonetheless, he was tucked into a relative blind spot. Sonic drew in and held a deep breath mere seconds before the rumbling was cut off by an ironically pleasant-toned _ting_, and the elevator doors whooshed apart.

The corridor was flooded with the sound of conversation. Ice formed along Sonic's spine, his limbs frozen rigid as a familiar, swollen figure stamped out of the elevator, so close that his trailing cape sent warm air fluttering over the hedgehog's skin. Snively's smaller form was scurrying alongside the obese dictator's, his ever anxious gaze focused unerringly on his employer and master all in one.

" . . . it's your absolute responsibility, and if anything happens to it, I'll be taking it out of your hide, Snively!"

"Yes, sir . . ."

"Take it personally to the analysis chamber on the fourth floor. Run the en20 and deltaEn sequences on it. The latter will take several hours and, presuming nothing else arises to irritate me, I will be there myself before it ends. It's a very simple task, but that probably means you'll fail, doesn't it, Snively?"

"No, sir."

Sonic saw the irritating little stooge clutch something tightly to his chest, but the pair had swept past too quickly and now were at the wrong angle for him to be able to catch what it was.

"Very good, Snively. Don't forget the orders I gave you upstairs. I cannot tolerate incompetence."

A clunk sounded next to him – the elevator doors were sliding automatically closed. Sonic sent one last look at the retreating, oblivious pair before darting silently between the narrow gap.

The elevator was empty and quiet, patiently awaiting its next summons. Had Buttface and his brownnoser just been visiting the cells? Visiting Safira? _Doing_ something to her? Visions of the robotociser sprang to the forefront of his mind, and Sonic shook them away, hesitating for only a moment longer. Then he grabbed the elevator's railing, hoisting himself up onto it with some difficulty as his shoes slid against the smooth walls. Directly above was a maintenance hatch; the hedgehog jumped to reach it, slapped the release trigger, and managed by some miracle to land back on the railing.

The darkness of the steaming, hissing shaft loomed beyond the small square in the ceiling. Sonic jumped again, this time grabbing the edge of the opening and hauling himself up on to the elevator's roof. He kicked the panel closed with his good leg and gazed up into the endless gloom of the shaft.

There wasn't much to think about. All of his thinking had been done by now. Even the questions in his head would have no answers until he reached Safira. Sonic secured his grip on some thick cables and began to ascend, methodically, hand over hand. It was a long way up, and he was slower than usual, but he could still make it. If he'd made it this far, there was really no excuse.

All the way up, he expected some obliviously annoying participant to decide to use the lift and cause him grief, but the shaft remained quiet and inactive, so that when he finally reached the second door up, he found himself not quite believing his luck. The doors came apart with a careful application of a long metal bar Sonic yanked from the functional décor, and then he was in, standing in the entrance corridor of the cell block.

A single SWATbot stood in alcove next to the sealed cell block door, scanning the array of monitors which displayed the cells across several levels. It went down without a fuss with the metal bar shoved through its neck, gurgling a few crackling syllables of alarm before the lights died in its eyes. Sonic left the bar in place, scowling up at the monitors.

Most cells seemed empty (though one screen was strangely smashed in), and the implications were stark; all prisoners were routinely cleared out for robotocisation. But, on the bright side, it could just mean that Robotnik had been lax lately and captured nobody.

Sonic clung to that positive interpretation, reaching down to tear the index finger and its retractable key from his victim. Robotnik was forever changing his security systems but had yet to find one the freedom fighters couldn't figure out. Lack of imagination, Sonic supposed. Still, he wasn't complaining – it made his job easier. As he straightened he had to suck in a breath against the pain at his side; for the most part it had sunk into background noise, but occasional surges of agony reminded him he was running on some kind of loaned endurance, with every need to eventually pay it back.

So. The monitors weren't helping – it was time for a sprint of the cells. Sonic stuck the key in its slot next to the cell block door, watching with satisfaction as it irised open from the middle. The garishly-lit cells glowed all along the left wall of the corridor he faced, and he began to jog straight on, angled slightly sideways to get a good look in each one. A seemingly endless stream of empties filled him with more and more despair, until a flash of dark in his speed-blurred vision caused him to stop, almost tripping over his own feet. Sonic backtracked, one eyebrow raised, and then approached one particular cell with a grin and a swagger.

"Don't make me come in there and get you," he said.

Safira's opalescent eyes were on him in seconds, wide with surprise. The feline was hunched on the cell's only furniture, evidently resigned to her fate.

"What are you doing here?"

"A simple thanks will do." The hedgehog brandished the key, examining the cell control panel to the right of the bars.

But the feline was insistent. She rose deliberately, stepping in a way Sonic could only think to describe as furiously up to the bars. "You didn't answer. What are you doing here? Why did you come back?"

"Pffft." Sonic rolled his eyes melodramatically, slotting the key into the right place. There was a _clunk_, and then the bars began to sink into the floor. "You would have been robotocised."

"It is of no consequence to you. Except that now you don't get handed over to Dr Robotnik. Which any smart creature might have taken as a stimulus to _leave_."

"Gratitude's not in your vocabulary, huh?"

Safira glared at him, making no move to leave the cell. She seemed genuinely angry, but Sonic was too tired to be bewildered. He stepped past her into the cell, making use of its scant furnishings for a brief sit down to catch his wind. He let the cat maintain her fierce regard on him for a long moment, before dropping his bombshell.

"I found the kittens, Safira."

Safira's eyes widened, her lips parting to reveal a sliver of white fang. Sonic half-closed his eyes, determined to look unconcerned.

"They're yours, right? They definitely had your eyes."

Those fierce eyes kept their grip on him for a seemingly a lifetime – and then Safira's resolve caved in. Her eyes lowered, her expression becoming one of dire resignation, and her voice as it quietly escaped had lost all of its venom.

"Yes," she said softly. "They are mine. They were ours."

Sonic nodded, planting his cheek in his gloved palm. "Hmm, and this 'he' you've been talking about . . . your partner, huh?"

Again, her response was curt, but the aggression was gone from her tone. "Yes, he was. But no longer."

"Why?"

"He is dead."

He might have slapped himself for that eager and unsympathetic question, but didn't want to lose this fleeting rapport he had with Safira. "Oh . . . I should have guessed. I'm so-"

"Do not be."

Sonic thought of those kittens, hidden away in all the garbage, and frowned. "Was it Robotnik?"

"What difference does it make?" Safira shrugged, warily moving to the back of the cell to perch on the edge of the seating, her eyes fixed on some indistinct point on the floor. "It is a dog-eat-cat world. People fail at survival and die. That is how it is meant to work."

"Geez. Depressing way of looking at things . . ."

"I want to know why you came back for me. I have not been accommodating of you. There was no motivation for a rescue, and yet you attempted one anyway. Explain."

Sonic folded his arms, managing a cocky grin. "All right. On one condition."

"And what might that be?"

He held up one finger, which Safira stared at as though about to eat it in irritation.

"Your story," he said.

Safira stared a moment longer, her small pink tongue idly caressing a sharp fang. And then, abruptly, she began to speak.

Sonic could only listen in fascination.


	6. Six

"In the lands beyond your Mobian civilisation was the old world, with all the old laws, and the old rituals. The old gods, and the old ways; the ways of survival. Strong and affiliated creatures would band together into families, in order that they might combine their strength against rivals, predators, and prey. You, my friend, would have held on very low in the food chain. My ancestors might even have fought, killed and eaten yours."

"Hold on a second." Sonic grimaced, watching Safira with a wary gaze. "Predators? Prey? That's not how -"

"Perhaps not anymore." The feline's smile became an angry sneer. "Some of our kind, they took to watching the Overlanders. Their weak and lazy souls caused them to hate the manner in which they must survive, a manner which depends on one's own fortitude, courage and endurance. They aspired to things they saw the Overlanders entertain, and they left the old lands with a dream of 'civilisation' in their head.

"It was mimicry, you see. Although the Overlanders killed without regard for life, destroyed the land they settled, and treated one another with contempt, these weaker creatures were held fast by the concept. It seemed easier to them. And make no mistake, I do not say the old ways were easy. They were harsh, and oftentimes unfair. But although we lived on each other, and endlessly fought, it was done with a respect for life and one another's efforts. It was a soul-fulfilling existence, a way that the old gods had first determined and encouraged by making us all different to begin with."

Swallowing, the hedgehog could only stare, struggling to withhold his disgust. "But that's cannibalism -"

"I assure you, it is not." Safira smirked, as though having anticipated the response. "It is nature. It is the Way, the way things were meant to be."

"Well, if that's true, I'm glad it's not 'the Way' anymore. We have enough enemies already without killing each other."

"That is your opinion." The words were said in such a manner that it was plainly obvious Safira held it in little regard. "Those who abandoned the old ways thought they might form a 'civilisation' without the obvious problems the Overlanders practised among themselves. But once you begin to think and behave like a human, those flaws that come naturally with being human also surface. It was a futile effort. Nonetheless, they left, and they did, indeed, found their civilisation, far from the old lands."

Sonic pouted, ever more dubious that he was getting a skewed account of Mobian history. "And that's where we are now, right? Mobitropolis. Civilisation, currently gone all wrong. What does this have to do with your story?"

"You are slow, hedgehog! Do you not see?" Safira's eyes were alight with wry, ironic ecstasy. "It is not 'currently gone all wrong' – it is, actually, completely right. All of this was the potential of the Overlander civilisation your ancestors mimicked. It is an inherent behaviour, that seekers of power in a civilisation will harm others to get it. It's survival, on a different plane. It is only natural."

"That's nuts! Robotnik's not natural. _None_ of this is natural!" Sonic found his voice getting hoarse, his body in no condition for a heated debate, but the cat's story somehow utterly incensed him.

"You are sadly wrong. Robotnik is only doing what comes naturally to him. Hating him is beyond pointless – do you hate grass for waving in the wind? Trees for growing under the influence of sun and water?" She laughed, shaking her head in mimicry as Sonic shook his own in complete disagreement with the entire concept. "Well, I digress. It began before Robotnik. I have spoken of this before, and you were not confused, so you must know of the Great War."

"Of course I do! My Uncle Chuck told me all about it."

"Where do you think the idea of war came from?"

Sonic narrowed his eyes, his jaw jutting out in suspicion. "You're gonna pin this on us behaving like humans, right?"

"Correct. And correctly, too. There was no war in the old ways."

"But you just said it was all about fighting!"

"Fighting is not war. We fought to survive, not to _win_, or to prove power. Survival is a cycle, ongoing, never-ending, and so the fighting was ongoing in kind. But we did not have time, resources or hatred for each other enough to fight over petty things, over imagined slights. To do so is very, _very_ human."

"I don't accept the difference."

Safira hissed her laughter, every fang in her mouth poignantly flashing in the glaring light of the cell. "You wouldn't. You don't know the old ways. Regardless, your King Acorn started, or at least perpetuated a war against the Overlanders, over a single death – can you imagine if such slights were warred over in the old lands? It would be war everyday! – and that is where my story begins."

"Only there? Geez, considering you never said hardly anything to me before, you're surprisingly long-winded."

"You asked for my story, and you are getting it." Safira sank back, smiling in a strange, regretful, grieving way as she stared off into the corridor with glassy eyes. "The Great War . . . I was a kitten. The old lands became encircled by the separate fronts of war. We had Overlanders picking at us, declaring us the same as Acorn, and your kind demanding our help and resources in kind.

"We were never a part of your war. But your people dragged us forcibly in. It changed everything. We who followed the old ways were trapped by overwhelming numbers and technology, but those who died in the crossfire had the easy way out. Those of us who were left behind, particularly the women and children, were of all things _pitied_!"

Safira's lip shuddered, rising back over her fangs in the angriest snarl Sonic had yet seen her produce.

"Pitied, because of our _backwards_ ways, our _lack_ of your wonderful 'civilisation'. They shipped those of us who couldn't yet fight back to Mobitropolis to 'save' us, and our culture, our livelihood, our _lives_, were henceforth demolished."

"I didn't know that, Safira." Sonic darted his tongue over his lips, rightfully afraid of saying entirely the wrong thing. "But Mobitropolis wasn't a bad place. I don't understand how not having to fight anymore would destroy your life."

"The fight _was_ my life, our lives! That was the Way, and it was stolen from us. You could never understand -"

"Maybe, maybe." Sonic frowned, his eyes on the cell floor, his brow furrowed in deep thought uncharacteristic of him. "But . . . y'said this city is no different from how it was before to you. You criticised me for hating Robotnik, because he destroyed my home and routinely kills or harms or enslaves my friends. I may not be able to understand the kind of life you had before, but I can understand what it's like to have the life you're used to torn away. My way might not have been your way, but I still lost my people's way. And I hate Robotnik the same way you hate King Acorn."

"Are they truly the same?" The question was hypothetical, a rumination; Safira's gaze scoured the ceiling for answer, lightly biting on her lower lip. "I hadn't considered it that way before. Perhaps you have a point. Old way or new way, it seems we are all selfish creatures by nature, only seeing things that suit us. But to deceive, and take power; it was in Robotnik's nature as a human being. King Acorn was not a human being, and I think that is the difference. He should not have forgotten the significance of the old ways. Shall I continue?"

"Yeah." Sonic pushed himself off the bench, stepping carefully to the edge of the cell to peer out into the corridor. It was still empty, though he was conscious of the time. "But we'd better hurry."

"You ask for a story, and then rush me through it? Hmph." Safira's smile became more amused. "We would not behave as your city wanted us to. We would not stay in our allotted, tiny homes, we would not go to the jobs they assigned us, we would not be kind to your city's 'native' members, whom we would previously have considered food or threats. We were a problem for your city, and enjoyed that status as being all we had. Your society ignored us, for the most part, but it was infuriating, too. To have been dragged from our home and our ways, only to be swept under the carpet as a mistake, is more demeaning than you can ever imagine.

"I found a mate among my own kind. We would steal food and resources for we had no money to pay for it. We never stayed in one place, always moving to avoid detection. The scorn and ignorance of your society was often painful, but we could do little more than rise above it. And when Robotnik's ploy became manifest and your city was ruined, of all things, our lifestyle was a benefit. We were not accurately listed that Robotnik could come and find us for robotocisation. We knew the city's routes and secret places to hide in. We were practised at scavenging food and material necessities. We were experts at the kind of survival Robotropolis required, and survive, we did."

"Yeah, I guess that all makes sense now. Lots of things do. Like how you couldn't make it through the Great Forest with six kittens, though you probably could have done it alone." Sonic nodded slowly, blowing out a soft breath. "I wish you'd just told me to begin with. I would have helped you, Safira."

"I don't doubt that you would have, now, at least." The feline did not, however, sound apologetic, but for some reason Sonic couldn't find it in him to be offended. Like it or not, hearing her story had made him understand, to a degree, why she did the things she did, and how she did them.

"Weeell, hindsight's twenty-twenty."

"Perhaps. But even so, it was not part of the plan to enlist your help willingly."

"This grand plan of yours."

"It was _he _who thought of it; he had taken to listening quite keenly to what news could be gleaned from Robotropolis. And you were re-occurring in it. If we could only trap you, we could exchange you with a safe passage to freedom for ourselves and our children."

Sonic felt compelled to ask again. "How did he die?"

"It is really that important to you?" Safira shook her head, drawing her mouth to one side in a frown. " . . . he was struck down by laser fire securing another gun for our needs, by a second SWATbot he hadn't seen. He died instantly."

"Oh . . ." Sonic pouted; part of him had hoped Robotnik was directly to blame, that he might kindle some hatred for his enemy in Safira. But he supposed that wasn't exactly a productive or wholesome thing to want to do.

"There was nothing I could do, but pray for an opportunity to implement the plan. My children are still so young and need constant attention I cannot provide at the same time as other needs. Had you not come here, I'm sure they would have died alone. But I couldn't let my children be taken."

Sonic nodded, understanding the mindset entirely. Some things, regardless of which way you happened to follow, seemed to be natural for Mobians; he'd seen more than enough of those kinds of sacrifices by his loved ones to be sure of it.

Safira has fallen quiet, the end of her story suggestive. Now she seemed to be reflecting on having told it at all, so the hedgehog stepped back to the cell's control panel, using the key to drop the panel below the lock where any significant possessions were stored for later inspection. He tugged out her cloak, belt, and the laser, and then felt a strident dischord of horror.

"Safira . . ." He turned his head, peering wide-eyed into the cell. "My backpack, and the ring."

Stupid question. He didn't need to see the expression on her face to know that it had been taken; the backpack would have been rifled through, the power ring taken, and all of a sudden, Robotnik and Snively's conversation near the lift made complete and total sense.

"Fourth floor," Sonic said in a breath, touching his forehead to the cold metal, because his temples had begun to pulse with the realisation that he couldn't quite go home yet.

"Yes, they took it." Rising from her seat, the feline padded across to him, taking her belt and cloak and checking the weapon's mechanics to see if it would still fire.

"Will you be able to find your own way out?"

Safira darted a look at him in surprise, tilting her head with a scowl. "I think you need to go home."

"I can't! I can't leave Robotnik with a power ring. Last time he got his hands on one, he was a real pain in the butt." Sonic threw his hands up, and gave his head a mild thump against the wall for effect. Then he sighed. "Fourth floor. You'll have to make your own way out. They said they were running tests on it, and I can't let them do that."

"So you'll be trekking through the building again? In your condition?"

"I don't have a choice, Safira. Can't let him have it. Snively's looking after it, he should be easy enough to deal with."

"You should get out while you can."

"I just can't!" Sonic drew his head back, pointing a furious finger at her. "You have your ways, and I have mine. This is somethin' I have to do. Please, just give me an answer – can you get out of here by yourself?"

Her eyes were fixed on him, penetrating in their intensity. Sonic held her regard with a squared jaw and a concentrated glare of his own, until the feline finally gave him a slow, deliberate nod.

"Yes."

"Then go back to your kittens, Safira. You owe me for all this, whatever 'way' you wanna look at it, and my payment is that you go to them and you keep them safe. Deal?"

Without a further word or gesture of acknowledgement, Safira swept past him, securing her things about her person as she went. Sonic hadn't honestly expected a goodbye, or any kind of apology, but her behaviour still seemed to grate against his nerves. She was just so . . . so _unlike_ any other Mobian he'd ever met. Her ethics and preferred way of life clashed horrendously with his life-loving morals, but still, he was convinced she was a good person; only a good person would have done that for her children. It was the key link, proving that they were of the same world – she held different beliefs, and her behaviour was all wrong to him, but her sacrifice had shown him that they were essentially the same where it mattered.

Safira disappeared through the irising cell block door, her cloak sweeping behind her like a shroud. Sonic felt that he'd seen her very much for the last time.


	7. Seven

It was harder now.

Sonic had to grit his teeth and pretend it wasn't, but it definitely was. Every step was a trial, and he couldn't seem to properly catch his breath. Some ancient instinct nagged at him to find a dark, warm corner and curl up and go to sleep, but he had to get that power ring. Too dangerous, far too dangerous to leave it in Robotnik's hands.

It had been a long time, now, since he'd told Bunnie he'd meet her back home. Far too long. Sally would be angry, maybe even worried, that he'd decided to run off on his own without explanation and hadn't come back yet. Would they be searching for him? Putting themselves in danger? He had no idea whether Safira had left any clues at the site where she'd shot him, but he doubted it. She was far too careful a kitty for that, and Robotropolis was a big place without some kind of direction.

_Safira_ . . . he couldn't get her out of his head. Sonic hated that their encounter had ended on such a bum note. Would she make it out of the citadel okay? Would she ever escape the city with her children? Not knowing was almost painful, because he'd spent so long in her company, only to find out the truth mere moments before they'd parted ways forever. Nicole would have called it _inconclusive_ . . .

A SWATbot stomped past the vent opening just a few feet ahead. Sonic held his breath, waiting for it to retreat a suitable distance before continuing. His whole day had been dark and grey and dismal, and now he was scrambling through dusty ducts again. What he wouldn't give for a plunge in a pool, a cold drink, a chilli dog. Well, he was close now, one floor away. It had been a couple of hours since he'd heard the conversation near the lift; if Robotnik was there, it would make his task so much harder. Snively, he could handle in his sleep.

Or perhaps he shouldn't think like that? He wasn't _exactly_ in top form and cockiness today might backfire. The end of the shaft dropped away sharply, almost vertically, and it was light enough that he could see two offshoots; one would be at floor level of this floor, while the other would take him down another entirely. Sonic pressed his hands flat against the roof of the shaft, shuffling onto his back to prepare for the slide, and then pushed off, slowing his descent with his palms.

Sally would be mad, oh yes indeed. Sonic hit the second opening with a harder bump than he'd expected, nursing his tailbone with a quiet groan. Mad because he'd taken that risk by going off on his own. But then, in some ways, he would have regretted not meeting Safira, not having an impact on her way of thinking. If he had made an impact, at least. There was no real evidence, besides somehow managing to coax that story out of her.

Hard to imagine Sally's father could be so much like the man Sonic despised in the eyes of Safira, and he didn't imagine she would lie about her heritage; in fact, she seemed pretty proud of it, the way Sally seemed proud when she talked about the things her father had done, the progress he had made with the city, the lives he'd improved.

Two totally different perspectives on the same thing. It was an eye-opener, that was for sure.

The corridor beneath his vent was empty, but the moment he'd slid the opening away and dropped, no matter how carefully, to the floor below with unpreventable gasp of pain at the impact, beeps of alarm sounded from one of the curving labyrinthine halls. Sonic snatched back his breath, straightening and jogging into one of the adjoining corridors before he could be spotted, but he could hear the clank of metal feet and knew his opportunity for slow stealth had been scuppered – he had to keep moving.

His legs felt like blocks of numb flesh, but move he did, his gloved fist to the wall for support. The air stank of machine-generated heat and chemicals, thick and stifling to breathe; how could Robotnik stand to live in a place like this?

That endurance loan was rapidly incurring interest. Sonic turned the corner – and found himself directly facing a pair of tall SWATbots, guarding a broad, closed door. Both of them began to mechanically pronounce simultaneously:

"He-"

But that was as far as they got. Sonic exploded into a living buzzsaw, smashing into them and scattering them to pieces like a pair of skittles. Fizzling body parts lay all around him, and Sonic panted, his eyes riveted to the door as though at any moment it might fly open to permit more guards. It was built solidly though; he suspected it was soundproofed. The hedgehog clambered shakily to his feet, scooping up a dismembered metallic forearm. That was it, security would be alerted _very_ soon now and he was running out of time. They'd been guarding this door for a reason.

That reason had better be his power ring.

A quick manipulation of the controls, and the huge, solid panel slid open. Beyond lay a large, dark hexagonal chamber, garishly illuminated by the lights of countless flickering monitors. Another smaller door faced the one he was standing in, but before that, in the centre of the room, was a tall cylinder. Its top was made partly of glass; Sonic could see the gleaming, golden power ring slowly undulating inside.

Snively stood before an array of monitors on the left side of the room, staring up as intricate graphs traced themselves across the screens. Sonic grinned despite himself, hefting the arm in one hand just as the man turned to the door, muttering under his breath:

"_It's about time you came, you fat, stupid, balding_ –S-Sonic!"

Sonic hurled the arm. It struck Snively directly in the forehead and sent him sprawling to the tiles with an amusing little holler of bewilderment. With a snicker, the hedgehog jogged over to him, but the little stooge was out cold, his mouth most unattractively hanging open.

"Not cool, Snivvels," Sonic said absently, pacing toward the central cylinder. His backpack was slumped at its base, and he quickly pulled it back on, finding its presence an instant comfort. "Ya ain't gonna fetch any ladyfriends lookin' like that. I guess you'll have to stick to kissing 'Buttnik's butt, as usual. Only to his face, but, o' course, I could never tell the difference."

The glass panelling rose at the push of a button, and Sonic thrust his hand quickly inside to take the ring, still wary of any traps. Its power reached him in a tingling of his fingertips, warm and familiar and reminding him instantly of his Uncle Chuck. He could use its extra burst of energy to bust out of the citadel and get on his way home before Robotnik had ever realised what –

Sonic turned apprehensively, squinting up at the glaring monitors. He'd removed the power ring, but the graphs and charts and flickering diagrams were still displayed on the screens. He was no scientist, and had no idea what they meant, but it did not take a genius to figure out they were data from the analysis of the power ring.

Last time he'd gotten his hands on one, Robotnik had been so eager to simply use the ring that he had stuck it in his machines as a super-powerful generator. This time he was being more careful – getting as much data from it as possible. Why? Any number of reasons. But if Robotnik could take Uncle Chuck's original blueprints and build the Robotociser, he could probably take the power ring's essential info and construct some kind of replica.

Bad, bad. Very bad. Sonic blew out a long-suffering sigh – the data could already have been sent anywhere, there was nothing he could do about that. But there was definitely something he could do about the data here.

Sonic lifted the power ring, feeling the tangible energies dancing within it, and felt a lightning surge as he accepted them. Pain and exhaustion were momentarily gone; an endless vigour rushed through his blood. Still holding onto the source, Sonic shot forward, rolling into a spinning ball of exploding speed. Monitors burst open with screams of static, metal crunched with each impact, and a jarring, stuttering series of verbal warnings began to crackle through the room; of course, Sonic was moving too fast to hear them.

He hit the central cylinder last; it caved in effortlessly, glass shattering and tinkling across the tiles. He landed on the fragments with a crunch, giddy with the rush as he sat crouched on the floor, the satisfying sounds of electrical destruction spitting all around him.

The power of the ring would not last long under such intense use. Sonic rose to his feet, his movements smooth again. It was surreal, knowing it wouldn't last but enjoying it anyway. He turned around, surveying the damage he'd done – it was pretty severe, even for Sonic. He grinned; pity Sally wasn't around to see. Now all he needed to do was find the nearest vent and _book it_.

Home free.

He was so enamoured by the thought, he belatedly noticed that Snively was sitting up among the wreckage, looking suitably horrified by the state of the analysis chamber. The man's face was almost purple, his lips peeled back over his teeth in a grimace indistinguishable between rage and terror.

"You . . . you . . ."

"Aww, don't you worry, Snivvels. Quick sweep around with a broom and this place'll be spick and span. 'Buttface won't even notice!"

At that, Snively's expression became one of quite obvious terror. Sonic found it amusing, until something hard and metallic and shrieking in a horrid parody of a bird clunked him on the back of his head. The hedgehog hissed, clutching at the point of impact and ducking to avoid any more. He whirled to face his opponent.

The gleaming, red-eyed metal creature swept across the corner of his vision, swooping on black mechanical wings back toward the open entry door – only to alight on the shoulder of man so huge he filled the broad space almost entirely.

Sonic had not been expecting that. At all. And though a slow, habitual grin spread across his face at the sight of Robotnik's face, quivering with rage, it did not reflect the uneasiness he felt in his belly.

Ever so gradually, Robotnik's face became less red, his teeth unveiled in an ugly half-grin, half-grimace. The good Doctor was not exactly what Sonic would call a looker.

"Hedgehog," he said, in his sinuous rasp of a voice.

" 'Buttface," Sonic replied equally, nodding his head in recognition. "Now, I know what this looks like, but go easy on old Snivvels. It's not his fault he's useless – I mean, he learned from you, after all."

"Oh, your razor wit cuts me, Sonic, it cuts me deep. It's a pity your brain isn't as fast as your mouth." The man's piggy eyes were all over him, in a manner that would have been slightly less discomfiting were he not obviously taking in the hedgehog's clearly diminished faculties.

Sonic reached over his shoulder and stuffed the spent power ring back into his satchel. It had lost its glow; Robotnik would know it had been used and had already seen it, plain as day. Although no one was presently daring to make a move, he knew it was a only matter of time before Robotnik called his bluff. And it was a bluff, a complete and total one; already, Sonic could feel the energy from the power ring draining away from him, leaving that heavy, exhausted weight in his muscles again.

But this . . . this was a battle of charisma. Robotnik took a heavy step forward, his tongue sliding over his lips in eager anticipation of a reaction. Sonic backed up, his eyes locked with Robotnik's, except for when he was darting a look at Snively to gauge his position.

Overthinking this would not help him. Sonic remembered the door opposite the one he'd entered by, slowly and deliberately inhaled a deep breath as a buffer against the pain he knew would follow, and then bolted backwards, turning mid-run to face the right way.

Robotnik yelled something, but it was just a stream of indecipherable sound to Sonic's ears at his speed. The motion sensors on the door were almost too slow to let him pass through; the hedgehog scraped his sides on the parting panels, not daring to show the agony that triggered until it had slid closed behind him.

He had a second. He spent it darting his eyes over his surroundings; a linear, grille-floored catwalk in a narrow room, a few sparse consoles either side. Three heavy metal crates were scattered carelessly across the platform; the darkness descended eternally below him, and directly opposite was another sliding door.

The door was the only viable way out. Sonic took a long step toward it, ready to break into another run – and that was it. His loan had run out. His injured side crippled with pain and the hedgehog staggered against the nearest crate, his breath hitching in his throat.

Behind him, the panels shot open, and Robotnik's furious bulge loomed through the opening. Sonic pulled himself upright just in time to take a blow from his enemy's robotocised arm that sent him spinning over the crate. He landed on his head on its other side and quickly rolled forward, blinking away stars as Robotnik's rasping burble of laughter grated like a file across his nerves.

"You don't seem to be having a good day, hedgehog. Let me put you out of your misery!"

Sonic put his now not-so-white glove to his nose, and it came away bloody. The blow had left his ears ringing; his fights with Robotnik were rarely physical fights, and without his speed, he was at a severe disadvantage. Obese though he was, there was surprising muscle and strength behind the Doctor's bulk. Sonic grinned through the discomfort, wondering whether the man had ever considered just leaping on him and crushing him to death.

"Killing me would only put _you_ out of _your_ misery, Ro_butt_nik."

"Who said I was going to kill you?" Robotnik paused his advance to laugh aloud, his great girth shaking with the exertion. "I'll knock the sense out of you first, and then have you robotocised, as I've always wanted."

"Just try it, blubber-butt, I dare ya."

It was all hot air. Sonic maintained his confident smile, but he had no idea what to do besides keep backing up and hope the next room had more possibilities. Robotnik was navigating awkwardly around the crates to get to him; abruptly, his metal arm smashed into the nearest one. The blow was enough to send it skidding across the catwalk, narrowly missing Sonic as he dove out of the way. The hedgehog lunged to his feet, making a break for the door, but it was short-lived – Robotnik sent a second crate grating across the mesh floor with such force that it actually hit a snag and rolled, careening into him with all its dead weight. Sonic sprawled to the ground mere feet from the exit portal, winded from the shuddering strike and too dazed to do anything as Robotnik loomed over him.

Pinned in the huge man's shadow, Sonic felt only contempt, his grin returning.

"Ch . . . Cheater . . ." he gasped, shaking his head in rejection of defeat.

Robotnik leered, stooping down to seize his enemy by the neck in his pudgy human fingers. "Sonic, I could never decide whether you were a persistent pest I just couldn't squash, or a worthy opponent. Whichever it was, I think your infuriating luck has just run out."

He lifted the hedgehog with little effort, easily raising him several feet from the floor. Sonic looked into his gloating face and, for the very first time, realised he might have lost. That he might not get back to Knothole. That Sally and the others would never find him, and he'd never see them again.

_Sally will be _really_ angry . . ._

"Sir!"

Snively's panicked squeal was met by a flicker of annoyance in Robotnik's expression.

"Don't you dare interrupt my victory with your petty complaints, you worthless, lily-livered -"

The door to the analysis lab flew open. Robotnik whirled, Sonic swinging in his grasp, just in time to block the laser blast he never saw coming with the metal of his robotocised arm. Part of the fire ricocheted, bouncing dangerously off the walls, but the impact had its effect; the metal glowed red hot, and Robotnik dropped Sonic with a cry of pain, staggering back against the railing.

The mesh catwalk made for a most unmerciful landing, but Sonic didn't have time to groan because a dark shape swept past Robotnik's raging figure, snatching the hedgehog's hand and jerking him firmly to his feet in a seamless, graceful dash.

"I told you, you are in no condition!" Safira hissed, dragging him to the door.

"Wha?"

"Idiot!"

They rushed through the sliding panels, Sonic stumbling clumsily in the feline's wake. Behind them, Robotnik was screaming furiously for SWATbots, yelling in a rage for guns, war machines, everything he might ever have invented or built that could cause damage.

The next room was much like the last one, but the platform split into a 'Y', forming two paths, and the crates were more orderly stacked; one or two of them were nonetheless leaking foul-smelling fluid onto the catwalk, which Sonic only marginally avoided as he came to a gasping halt on his knees, his arm nearly wrenched out of its socket by his not-quite-gentle rescuer.

"Wait . . . Safira, I'm -"

"We can't stop, or we'll die." Her tone lacked any sense of compassion, bitingly hard as she hauled him onward with a pinch of unsheathed claws and surprising strength in her wiry arms.

The feline pulled him left, all of her teeth bared in a fierce grimace that seemed to be one of concentration rather than anger. Sonic bit his tongue and ran on, trying to remember how to use his legs.

"Do you know where we're -"

"Going? Naw. Not a clue, sorry, Saffy."

"_Safira_. Call me that again and I'll leave you right here wrapped in gift paper."

She came to an abrupt halt, the door whooshing open at their approach onto another catwalk. This room had only one exit – picking this route might mean they couldn't come back and take the other one if it was the wrong way.

But, shucks. _Neither_ of them might be the right way. Sonic cleaned his nose with the back of his hand, urging Safira onwards with a nudge against her back.

"C'mon, or he'll catch up. We'll just have to take the chance."

Safira nodded stiffly, beginning her harrowing dash yet again. The stench of chemicals was waxing and waning, but far more worrying was the increasing sounds of yelling and thumping not far behind them. Sonic yanked back against Safira's grip as soon as they'd passed the door, crouching down beside its control panel and unsympathetically tearing off the cover.

"What is this?" she spat in disgust.

"Juuuus' a little trick Rotor taught me. Chill, Safira, I know what I'm doing. Some of the time." Sonic flexed a finger across the wires and gleaming components that lay beneath, delicately plucking a few he recognised from their circuit board. The sliding door slammed shut like a guillotine, sparks hissing from the panel, and Sonic quickly backed up to Safira, turning clumsily in an attempt to get back to his feet.

"That will hardly hold them for long," the cat said with a derisive snort, seizing up his hand again.

"Hey, it's the best I got right now. I'd have more, if someone hadn't shot the sense out of me."

"Hah! As if you had any to begin with!" Safira flew through the next portal, her pace no slower than before, until all of a sudden she came to a striking halt, Sonic slamming into her back with a gasp of pain. She offered no explanation, so he looked past her to get his own.

There was more catwalk ahead, but it abruptly cut off, ending in a circular hole and not reaching the opposing wall. The room itself was huge, circular, and it descended down deeply into what could only be made out as some kind of liquid well. The pungent stink of chemicals laced the air.

"They dump stuff here," Sonic said with a sigh, breaking free of Safira and limping to the edge of the railing, his hands closing firmly over the horizontal bar for support. "Chemicals, like in those crates. Any ideas?"

Safira padded thoughtfully across the platform, swinging her weapon at her side in an almost amiable motion. "I think I know where this must drop off to. There are -"

"Whoa, time out, Safira." The hedgehog turned, forming a 'T' with his hands, his lopsided frown quite telling of his opinion. "You're not gonna suggest we jump? The stuff he dumps in here could burn our brains out!"

"The contents that were leaking from the crates back there were not burning the metal. It looked like some kind of fuel to me. I'm not suggesting they'll do us any good, but I see no other opportunity for escape."

Sonic hung his arms over the railing, pouting down at what he hoped was water. Straight up, the shaft seemed to ascend forever; it probably outletted to a tall chimney funnel somewhere for whatever fumes erupted when the chemicals were dropped in. With a power ring, and the use of his speed, he could have vaulted them both straight up the wall and over the top, but . . .

His mind was foggy with exhaustion. He glanced back at Safira; the feline was stooping near the circular hole, touching an extended claw to a splash of dark liquid that stained the rim. It seemed pretty dry – maybe, just _maybe_, nothing had been dumped for a while.

There was a crunch from the room they'd just fled from; the door was giving way. Safira shot up from her crouch, darting over to him. "I know more about survival than you do about running, hedgehog. As hard as I realise it probably is, considering the circumstances under which we met, I'm afraid you'll just have to trust me."

_Crack_. And suddenly Robotnik's grating voice was much louder, as was the stomping noise and vibrations of maybe dozens of heavy, SWATbot feet. Safira swept her hand against Sonic's shoulder and shoved him.

Hard.

Sonic released maybe a half-syllable of surprise before he completely flipped over the railing, plummeting fast. The catwalk rose up and away from him; he caught sight of Safira still mounting the bar even as the door flew open and laser fire ricocheted around the walls. It was a long way down, and soon the blasts were no longer singing around him. Safira's dark, cloaked shape leapt from the railing, and then Sonic smacked into the surface of the pool.

Acrid, tainted, lucid warm water assailed his senses, thick and foul in his mouth and stinging his eyes. His wound exploded with hissing pain and he intuitively opened his mouth in shock, which did nothing except invite more of the polluted fluid in. He began to thrash upward – or tried to. His tired limbs refused to cooperate, and the jolt of the impact seemed to have stolen all the strength from him. He felt himself begin to sink, completely unable to draw breath, aching, tired and drifting . . .

Some muffled sound of a splash from above him. A few flashes of light fizzled up there; laser fire harmlessly extinguishing itself in the water. Sonic felt something snag his arm and pull, but he could see nothing in the swirling, nauseating darkness.

At the pinch of unsheathed claws, though, he knew it was Safira.


	8. Eight

The cringeworthy sound of retching coughs and splutters echoed along the sewer passage, not quite drowned out by the continuous rush of water from the polluted flow that dominated the huge tunnel. It had been a long, harrowing, disorienting ride, and Safira had occasionally been afraid of getting dragged the wrong way by the strong currents in the pipes that connected the disposal pool to the city's sewer system.

The sewer system itself hadn't been much modified since Robotnik had risen to power. She and her partner had used it regularly to avoid being seen in public; the irony of the benefits of such knowledge never failed to amuse her.

Safira spat against the stone, the taste of rancid, filthy water still horribly vivid against her tongue. Sonic had swallowed rather more of it than she had, and she granted him the courtesy of not looking as he coughed his guts up on the narrow pathway beside the sewage flow. Part of her was surprised he had made it at all; there had been few opportunities for precious gasps of air along their particular choice of exit route, and Sonic had been a complete dead weight the full length.

Eventually his choking degenerated into miserable heavy breathing, and Safira turned back in time to see him drop his arms and head to the floor, flat on his belly with the sharp, rapid rise and fall of his back betraying his sheer exhaustion. The feline brushed water from her stinging eyes, padding softly and closely to the fallen rebel.

"We can't stay here too long," she said in a vibrating purr. "They'll know where the water filters out. They'll have forces here soon."

" 'M too tired, S'fira." Sonic's voice was little more than a slurred whisper, only the corner of his face, with its wearily shuttered eye and mouth open to gulp in more air visible between his shielding arms. "Five minutes. 'S all I need."

Safira very much doubted that, dropping into a sitting position beside the sprawled hedgehog, her narrowed eyes riveted to him. She sat in silence, until he offered another insightful remark.

"Y'can go . . . if you want."

She sneered, drawing back her lip over one gleaming fang. "All that trouble, just to leave you here? I think not. My time is precious, hedgehog, I do not waste it."

Sonic shook slightly; Safira thought he might be having a fit, until she heard his weak laughter.

"You know? I never . . . never really thought you'd come back."

Snorting, the feline turned her head away, her small, pink tongue darting over her lips.

"You didn't tell me why you came back for me," she said eventually, scowling. "Even after I told you my story."

"You must already know the answer." Sonic cracked open an eyelid, peering up at her hazily, but with obvious surprise. "I mean . . . you came for me, to do more than just ask me that question, right?"

Irritating child. Safira bared her teeth at the opposing wall, and then spontaneously covered them again, cradling her chin in the palm of her hand. If she passed off saving him as simply a means to having her question answered, who was she really deceiving except herself? The cat rolled her bony shoulders in a slow shrug.

"It just felt right," she said dispassionately.

Sonic exhaled, something that sounded very much like a sigh of relief as he closed his eyes again. "Way past. See, y'were goin' on about your ways, and how different mine were t'yours, but in the same situation, both of us felt the same action was right. D'you see what that means?"

Apparently he was capable of waxing philosophical when he felt like it. Safira wrinkled her nose, watching him with disdain. "What does it mean?"

"Means we're the same. In the bits that matter."

"Really."

" . . . mmm."

Safira turned her gaze on him, waiting for further elaboration, but the hedgehog seemed to have drifted off, and didn't respond when she gave him a careful prod in the shoulder. Looking at his much-punished figure, Safira felt a pang of . . . of _something_.

It was impressive, really. He had endured a lot today. The water, foul as it was, had removed much of the grit and dirt, and his wound wasn't looking quite so bad – she had deliberately made it a clean hit, intended to hinder but not permanently cripple or kill him – but nonetheless, she had pushed him as someone injured in such a way should not be pushed. Keeping him tired and disoriented had always been a part of the plan, but abandoning it mid-way, and his impromptu decision to rescue _her_, had not been. That he had taken on, _voluntarily_, further trials to free her and retrieve his belongings to secure future freedom fighting was no feat to be sniffed at.

In Sonic, Safira could see the grit and strength and persistence that burned with herself, and had smouldered equally within her partner. _He_ might have laughed at her entertaining the ruminations and coercions of a _civilised_, but really, there were a few grains of truth in what Sonic had said.

He and his companions had lost their original lives, their original ways, when Robotnik had taken control of their home. They would have been only children – they were _still_ only children – and yet now they fought for Mobitropolis' restoration. Given the opportunity to take their original life back and restore the old ways, would Safira and her people have taken it?

A ridiculous question. They would have fought tooth, claw, courage and fortitude to seize it, fought until there wasn't an ounce of blood left in their bodies.

Safira released a long, drawn-out breath, shaking her head at the blue, silent figure breathing heavily beside her.

"We're really not so different, are we?"

Oh yes, _he_ would have laughed. But she liked to think he would also have agreed. Ah . . . there it was. Safira tipped her head back, teeth clenched against the lancing pain of grief. It was a futile emotion, one that solved no problems, and only diminished strength. It was childish to entertain it. Foolish to regret.

"Sonic." Safira nudged him with a paw. The hedgehog didn't move, entirely out cold. In the faint light of the sewer system, with all his bravado hidden away, he seemed even more like an infant, vulnerable and homesick. But she hadn't been guessing before; it was far too risky to stay here for long. They weren't out of the woods yet. Dr Robotnik had _not_ been impressed as she had leapt from the platform after his enemy and would certainly pursue, knowing how defenceless Sonic was at present. But how was she to get him home?

And why was she taking her responsibility that far?

Questions, questions. Sonic had introduced a great many into her thinking since she'd met him. Her heart ached for her children, but, though she wouldn't accept fault for the reason behind her behaviour, she would accept fault for the problems and unfairness her particular methods had caused.

Leaving Sonic here was not an option.

_Crack_.

Bunnie's ears twitched. She turned her head, scowling at the array of buildings behind her to try and bring to light the cause of the noise, but they stood silent, still and grey, mocking her suspicious glare. The fur on the back of her neck rose, and the rabbit shivered, turning back to her companions.

"Did y'all hear that?"

Unsurprisingly, she received no response. Sally and Rotor were crouched around Nicole, pointing at various aspects of the three-dimensional citadel map the computer was projecting in lines of muted light. Bunnie sighed, stepping closer to the pair with an ear raised to catch their urgent mutterings.

"The prison block is where we should check first. One of us can detour to the security level to eavesdrop." Sally's expression was grim, and the model altered its angle as she glided her pointing finger to the appropriate area of the blueprint. "If Robotnik has Sonic, he might have taken him somewhere specific and we need to know where. This is one occasion I bet that . . . that _moron_ wouldn't enjoy special treatment."

"Sally . . ." Rotor said wearily, touching his hand to his head in despair, but abruptly he shrugged, dropping it back to the ground. "Never mind. I said nothing."

"What, Rotor?"

"I said I -"

_Crack_.

Bunnie waved her arms, spinning back toward the buildings she was sure the noise was coming from. It was like the clatter of stone against stone, harsh and reverberating, but still she couldn't see anything among the buildings "Ah told ya! Y'all heard it that time, for sure!"

Her companions stared at the dilapidated structures for a long moment, but Sally exhaled softly through her nose.

"They're old, Bunnie. It's probably debris falling. We have more important things to worry about."

"Ah don't know about that, Sally-girl."

She tore her gaze from the buildings, returning it to her friend, but the squirrel was looking again at the model, bent with furious industry as she planned a grand-scale infiltration of Robotnik's headquarters. Bunnie frowned, silently begging Rotor for support, but the walrus shook his head, apparently happy to let Sally call the shots; it was unlikely they'd be able to pull Sally out of her concentrated efforts easily.

Drumming her metal fingers against her thigh, Bunnie turned in a lazy circle, surveying that suspicious row of structures with narrowed eyes. Instinct told her she was missing something important. The furthest one to the left was partially caved in, the third floor entirely gone and the second looking like some giant had taken a huge bite out of the corner. Was that someone standing near the half-chewed window?

Naw. Your eyes played tricks on you in the dark. Didn't they?

The shape moved. Abruptly, Bunnie saw something sail from the second floor; the missile _cracked_ against the floor ten feet or so from her, a fragment of brick that shattered into dusty pieces upon impact.

"OI!"

Bunnie broke into a run, ignoring Sally and Rotor's cries for her to wait up; being weighed down by metallic limbs did not stop her being one of the more athletic and powerful of the freedom fighters, and instinct _told_ her there was something important about this. The dark shape loitered in the gap until Bunnie was close – and then, suddenly, it vanished in a flurry of cape and fur, disappearing into the gloom beyond the immediate visible gap.

She triggered Rotor's modifications to her mechanical legs, an expansion of their length propelling her up toward the chasm, and Bunnie soared through it, her limbs snapping back to their normal size in time for her to land with a heavy thud against the concrete floor.

Which she almost slipped immediately on. Puddles of damp, dark water spattered the ground, trailing across to where the stone collapsed down to the first floor. Wrinkling her nose in confusion, Bunnie followed them to the broken edge of the room, carefully negotiating the haphazard pile of rubble to get to the one below. The entire back wall of the building here seemed pitted with huge crags and holes.

The figure she was chasing flew past them all, heading right. Bunnie gave another yell, darting for the largest gap to squeeze through. What this person was doing, or why, or why Bunnie so ardently felt the need to follow, she had no idea, but she was a simple gal at heart and when stuff felt right, she did it.

Sally and Rotor were calling from the front of the building. Bunnie gave a quick yell of "Round the back!" but didn't stop running. The figure turned a sharp corner ahead, deliberately allowing her pursuer to see it – that much, Bunnie was sure of, not that she needed to see it to be able to follow the damp trail the person was leaving behind. Someone had been for quite a dunk, it seemed.

Bunnie turned the corner – the alley behind the buildings opened into a broad road junction of open space that immediately had her natural alarm bells tingling, but although the dark figure could fleetingly be seen a long distance ahead, vanishing into the gloom, Bunnie's attention was rapidly drawn to the unusual dash of blue against the dull environment, lying some way down the right road.

The figure was instantly forgotten. Bunnie hollered at the top of her powerful lungs for Sally, pounding toward Sonic's still figure. To her absolute relief, he instantly raised his hands to clap them over his ears, peering up at her with one eye half-closed in irritation as soon as she drew close enough.

"Geez Louise, Bunnie . . ."

A trail of drying water streaked the ground, leading from him all the way down the street and out of sight – it looked like he'd come pretty far, wherever it was he'd come from. Bunnie was tempted to boot him in the side for all the trouble he'd caused, but a quick once-over told her he probably didn't need any further injuries.

"We've been searching for hours for you, Sugar-hog. You told me you'd be back at Knothole before me!"

Sonic draped his hand dramatically over his eyes. "I know. But stuff happened along the way." Traces of his usual jokey tones and bravado were in his voice, but they were overshadowed by obvious weariness. " . . . Sally's gonna be angry with me, huh?"

"Yah-huh. Ah'd brace myself, were Ah you."

But instead he grinned, and didn't stop even when Sally eventually found her way to him, furious reprimands tumbling in an endless stream from her snapping mouth. Bunnie and Rotor stood behind her, patiently waiting for her to get it out of her system.

"And what do you have to say for yourself, hmm?" the princess finished, her knuckles planted firmly on her hips.

Sonic raised his eyebrows, still sporting that knowing grin. "Only that you have _no idea_ how good it is to see you guys. Home, please? I nominate Rotor for piggy-back duty."

The walrus snorted a laugh. "You would. But you got a lot of explaining to do, Sonic . . ."

"Later, later. It can wait, now that I know for sure there'll _be_ a later."

With tolerant disgruntlement, Rotor did as he was told, complaining continuously about the solid, soaking lump that was his hedgehog companion. Bunnie hung back, discreetly watching Sally rub the heels of her palms against her eyes and remembering the figure she'd originally been chasing. A quick glance up that particular street revealed nothing that she could see, but Bunnie could still unsettlingly feel eyes upon them. Suspicious, indeed. Well, maybe Sonic knew more about them; no doubt he'd be forced to elaborate fully once they'd got him back to Knothole, and they'd got him all cleaned up like new.

Swiftly recovering, the princess drew herself up tall, steeling herself with a deep breath before turning to her friend with a despairing shake of her head.

"That hedgehog will be the death of me, someday."

"D'aww. Y'all love him really."

"Hmm. But don't tell him that. His ego is big enough already."


	9. Nine

The dark sky held a brilliant crystal clarity. Far from the choked and clouded atmosphere of Robotropolis, Sonic could see the speckled stars, gleaming against a backdrop of deep bluish-black. With one raised finger, he traced the constellations, daydreaming about the times Uncle Chuck had pointed them out to him, explained their origins. Sonic had too short an attention span to be enamoured by them for long, but the memories were comforting.

"You'll be okay here, right?"

Sonic tilted his head against the grass, flashing his small companion a confident grin.

"You're asking me, Sonic, _the_ hedgehog, if I'll be okay? Tails, Tails. Have I taught you nothing?"

Tails beamed, his twin appendages twirling with delight. Ever since his return, Sonic had been hard-pressed to find a minute without the eager, worried fox jumping around at his side. He'd been spared the details of the story, but to see his idol dragged back from Robotropolis wounded and exhausted had been more than enough; Tails had been determined to help out, and that was that.

"We're far from Knothole, though. Why'd you come this far?"

"I don't know. I can't stay in one place for too long, _especially_ not when I have Sal fussing all over me." Sonic rolled his eyes, an action perfectly mimicked by Tails as though they'd rehearsed it together. "Yeesh, girls. Cooties and stuff."

Tails poked out his tongue. "Ewwww."

"I know, ain't it the truth, lil' buddy. Say, Tails." Sonic rolled onto his side, pointing a distance away toward an array of trees that fringed the clearing. "Since I'm the invalid an' all, why don't you go rummage around for some firewood?" He inhaled a deep breath, flexing in a stretch that only slightly pained his bound hip, and folded his hands behind his head. "I'm in a story-telling mood, and you can't tell stories without a fire, right?"

"Right!"

The fox was off and running before Sonic could even blink. "Don't go too far though!"

Poor kid. So enamoured by his best buddy, he didn't even suspect a deception. Sonic waited until Tails was far out of sight, and then he turned his head to the dense wall of trees that sheltered him on the right, scanning the darkness with wide eyes.

" 'Three days from now'," he quietly intoned, perfectly remembering the final whisper in his ear a certain feline had left him with before bounding off into the city, drawing his friends close enough for a rescue. " 'Meet me at the northernmost forest border'. Well, I'm here if you are, Saffy."

A pair of opalescent eyes peered irritably from behind a tree, their owner scowling. "I told you not to call me that."

Sonic laughed under his breath. "I know."

"Then don't."

"Okay, okay."

Silence descended. Sonic turned his gaze back to the sea of stars above, uncharacteristically patient, because now he knew the rules Safira played by. He understood what made her tick, and he didn't have to wait long.

"You are faring well?"

"Good as ever. Kinda." He removed one hand from behind his head, patting the bandages at his hip. "It's apparently pretty superficial, but I think you meant for it to be. Some sleep and eats later, and I'm feeling way better."

Safira purred ambiguously. " . . . good to hear. You are lucky your comrades were close enough, or I would have had to drag you all the way. What did you tell them?"

He'd considered downplaying Safira's role, when he'd been 'encouraged' to spill the beans. And to an extent, Sonic had. He'd certainly ignored plenty of the incriminating details, focusing heavily on what had happened in the citadel to cast her in a better light. But the message of not trusting _everyone_ you came across was too important for him not to pass on. Sally had been livid to hear of such behaviour from a 'fellow Mobian', so he'd tactfully decided that accusing her father of destroying distant cultures and triggering such hatred of civilisation in the first place could probably be left until a better time.

"Well, you know. I told 'em stuff. But not everything." Sonic shrugged, shaking his head with a frown. "There were bits they . . . I guess they just wouldn't understand. Were your kittens okay?"

"Just as you had left them. I've moved us closer to the forest for now."

"Safira . . ." Puffing out a breath, Sonic narrowed his eyes at the sky. "Something's been buggin' me. About when you came back to help me out. You shot _at_ Robotnik, but you didn't _shoot_ him. You could have killed him, you know? It was a perfect opportunity."

The feline's eyes seemed to glow in the gloom. "Would you have wanted me to?"

"That's been bugging me, too." Sonic closed his eyes, shaking his head indecisively. "And I still don't think I have an answer."

"Well, regardless. I did not follow you to kill your enemy on your behalf. I followed to stop you from killing yourself."

Sonic grinned, giving Safira a teasing look. "Felt guilty, huh? Huh?"

"No, but responsible. I told you before, it just felt right." An edge of irritation crossed her whispery tones. "You think I came here to apologise?"

"Naw." Sonic shrugged, his words sincere. "You don't need to. You kinda went about things the wrong way, buuut . . . I know why you did them. And I know why you did them that way. And you made up for it because, without you, 'Buttnik would have his grubby paws on me."

Safira ventured slightly out from the trees, drawing herself up tall and proud. "I will never change my Ways. But, I have decided to be more considerate of yours, all the same."

He rolled onto his side, propping himself up eagerly on one elbow. "That's plenty enough for me. Your plan, though – you gonna hatch a new one?" Sonic would have invited her back to Knothole, if he hadn't known instinctively that she would reject. That wasn't her Way.

"I already have." Safira circled the tree, until her back was facing him, one hand against the bark and the other holding up a number of unsheathed claws. "In four days. I have been gathering resources for myself and my children to leave. We will attempt the Great Forest route, heading east away from the city. If we make it, we will keep going, until we reach the old lands again."

A pause. And then one eye, framed by an arched eyebrow, peered back at Sonic over an angular shoulder. "You are not obliged to help."

"I'm not, huh?" Sonic smiled. It wouldn't have made sense before, because he hadn't known the rules, but now he could play the game with her. "Well, four days. It may be a bad time, since I'm _pretty_ sure we'll be pulling _some_ kind of stunt right about then. I suppose I could try and, I don't know, convince the guys to shift our activity to the west a bit. Wouldn't want to rain on your escape attempt, and, aw, shucks, _distract_ 'Buttnik's security or anything."

Safira smiled – not a venomous one, or a sly one, or one of amusement at someone else's expense. It was a real, genuine smile, and Sonic couldn't help but stare at it.

"That would be most convenient," she said quietly. "At any rate, I have to get back. My children are waiting for me."

Sonic didn't anticipate a thank you, but nonetheless he sat upright, calling softly after Safira as she began to step back through the foliage toward the distant city. He'd been wrong before, but not now; this was the last time he was going to see her, and it had to be ended right. His Way.

"Safira? Good luck, okay? I won't forget you."

The feline laughed, turning back only briefly. "I would fear for your memory if you did. Goodbye, Sonic."

And with that, she was gone, vanished into the darkness as surely as if she'd teleported clean away. The hedgehog stared into the trees, thinking that it was perhaps the first time she'd addressed him sincerely by name, and also ironically the last . . .

"Sonic!"

He jumped a mile, clutching a hand to his chest and spinning about to face his eager companion, who was running across the clearing with his scrawny arms full of branches and his oversized shoes threatening to send him flying at any given moment.

"Give a hedgehog a heart attack, why don't ya?"

Tails giggled, miraculously making it without mishap and dumping his haul an appropriate distance from the pair's allocated snoozing spot.

"Wha'ssamatter, Sonic? Scared of ghosts?"

"Pssh! PSSH! Sit your butt down before I boot it. You want your stories, or not?"

They got the fire cheerily crackling away first, and the familiar warmth boosted his improved spirits even further, but Tails was quick to remind Sonic of his suggestion, even though this was one unusual occasion the hedgehog felt able to lie perfectly still and quiet. They lay head-to-head, Sonic's gaze drawn back to the twinkling stars, Tails twittering about which kind of stories he wanted to hear. After a long moment of contemplation, he began.

"This one time, while I was on a solo mission in Robotropolis, I met this really interesting cat . . ."


End file.
